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IN THE ^ VV 

DAYS OF THE MUTINY 

a fiDllitar? IHowl 



AUTHOR OF 




G. A. HENTY 

>1 

“the curse of CARNE’s hold,” “a hidden foe,” ETC- 



t • .nr. ’ 




NEW YORK 

JOHN A. TAYLOR AND COMPANY 

1 19 Potter Building 





Copyright, 1893, by 

JOHN A. TAYLOR AND COMPANY 


In the Days of the Mutiny. 


CHAPTER I. 

m 

It would be difficult to find a fairer scene. Through- 
out the gardens, lanterns of many shapes and devices- 
threw their light down upon the paths, which were 
marked out by lines of little lamps suspended on wires 
a foot above the ground. In a treble row they encir- 
cled a large tank or pond and studded a little island in 
its centre. Along the terraces were festoons and arches 
of innumerable lamps, while behind was the Palace or 
Castle — for it was called either — the Oriental doors and 
windows and the tracery of its walls lit up below by 
the soft light, while the outline of the upper part could 
scarce be made out. Eastern as the scene was, the act- 
ors were for the most part English. Although the crowd 
that promenaded the terrace was composed principally 
of men, of whom the majority were in uniform of one 
sort or another, the rest being in evening dress, there 
were many ladies among them. 

At the end of one of the terraces a band of the 103d 
Bengal Infantry was playing, and when they ceased a 
band of native musicians, at the opposite end of the 
terrace, took up the strains. Within, the palace was 
brilliantly lighted, and at the tables in one of the large 
apartments a few couples were still seated at supper. 
Among his guests moved the Rajah, chatting in fluent 
English, laughing with the men, paying compliments 
to the ladies — a thoroughly good fellow all round, as 
his guests agreed. The affair had been a great success. 
There had first been a banquet to the officers and civil- 

5 


6 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


ians at the neighboring station. When this was over, 
the ladies began to arrive, and for their amusement 
there had been a native nautch upon a grand scale, fol- 
lowed by a fine display of fireworks, and then by sup- 
per, at which the Rajah had made a speech expressive 
of his deep admiration and affection for the British. 
This he had followed up by proposing the health of the 
ladies in flowery terms. 

Never was there a better fellow than the Rajah. He 
had English tastes, and often dined at one or other of 
the officers’ messes. He was a good shot and could 
fairly hold his own at billiards. He had first-rate Eng- 
lish horses in his stables and his turnork was perfect in 
all respects. He kept a few horses for the races and 
was present at every ball and entertainment. At Bit- 
hoor he kept almost open house. There was a billiard- 
room and racquet courts, and once or twice a week there 
were luncheon parties at which from twelve to twenty 
officers were generally present. In all India there was 
no Rajah with more pronounced English tastes or greater 
affection for English people. The one regret of his 
life, he often declared, was that his color and his reli- 
gion prevented his entertaining the hope of obtaining 
an English wife. All this, as every one said, was the 
more remarkable and praiseworthy inasmuch as he had 
good grounds of complaint against the British govern- 
ment. 

With the ladies he was an especial favorite; he Avas 
always ready to show them courtesy. His carriages 
were at their service. He was ready to give his aid 
and assistance to every gathering. His private band 
played frequently on the promenade, and handsome 
presents of shawls and jewelry were often made to those 
whom he held in highest favor. At present he was 
talking to General Wheeler and some other officers. 

• “ I warn you. that ! mean to win the cup at the races,’’ 
he said. “ I have just. bought the- horse who swept the 
board on the Bombay side, and as I have set my; heart 
on winning the cup, I have secured it. I am ready to 
back it if any of you gentlemen are disposed to wager 
against it” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


7 


“ All in good time, Rajah, ” one of the officers laughed ; 
“ we don’t know what will be entered against it yet and 
we must wait to see what the betting is; but I doubt 
whether we have anything that will beat the Bombay 
crack on this side. I fancy you will have to lay odds 
on.” 

“We shall see,” the Rajah said. “I have always 
been unlucky, but I mean to win this time. ” 

“I don’t think you take your losses much to heart, 
Rajah,” General Wheeler said; “yet there is no doubt 
that your bets are generally somewhat rash ones. ” 

“ I mean to make a coup this time. That is your word 
for a big thing, I think?. The Government has treated 
me so badly I must try to take something out of the 
pockets of its officers.” 

“You do pretty well still,” the General laughed. 
“ After this splendid entertainment you have given us 
this evening you can hardly call yourself a poor man.” 

“ I know I am rich. I have enough for my little 
pleasures. I do not know that I could wish for more. 
Still no one is ever quite content.” 

By this time the party was breaking up, and for the 
next half-hour the Rajah was occupied in bidding good- 
by to his guests. When the last had gone he turned 
and entered the palace, passed through the great halls, 
and pushing aside a curtain entered a small room. The 
walls and the columns were of white marble, inlaid 
with arabesque work of colored stones. Four golden 
lamps hung from the ceiling, the floor was covered with 
costly carpets, and at one end ran a platform a foot 
above the rest, piled with soft cushions. He took a 
turn or two up and down the room, and then struck a 
silver bell. An attendant entered. 

“ Send Khoosheal and Imambux here. ” Two min- 
utes later the men entered. Imambux commanded the 
Rajah’s troops, while Khoosheal was the master of his 
household. 

“All has gone off well,” the Rajah said. “I am 
pleased with you, Khoosheal. One more at most, and 
we shall have done with them. Little do they think 
v;hat their good friend Nana Sahib is preparing for 


8 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


them. What a poor-spirited creature they think me to 
kiss the hand that robbed me, to be friends with those 
who have deprived me of my rights! But the day of 
reckoning is not far off, and then woe to them all. 
Have any of your messengers returned, Imambux?” 

“ Several have come'in this evening, my lord. Would 
you see them now or wait till morning?” 

“ I will see them now ; I will get the memory of these 
chattering men and these women with their bare shoul- 
ders out of my mind. Send the men in one by one. 
I have no further occasion for you to-night ; two are 
better than three when men talk of matters upon which 
an empire depends.” 

The two officers bowed and retired. Shortly after- 
ward the attendant drew back the curtain again, and a 
native, in the rags of a mendicant, entered and bowed 
till his forehead touched the carpet. Then he remained 
kneeling with his arms crossed over his chest and his 
head inclined in the attitude of the deepest humility. 

“ Where have you been?” the Rajah asked. 

“ My lord’s slave has been for three weeks at Meerut. 
I have obeyed orders. I have distributed chupaties 
among the native regiments, with the words ‘Watch, 
the time is coming,’ and have then gone before I could 
be questioned. In another disguise, I have gone 
through the bazaar, and said in talk with many that the 
Sepoys were unclean and outcast, for that they had bit- 
ten cartridges anointed with pig’s fat, and that the 
Government had purposely greased the cartridges with 
this fat in order that the caste of all the Sepoys should 
be destroyed. When I had set men talking about this 
I left; it will be sure to come to the Sepoys’ ears.” 

The Rajah nodded. “ Come again to-morrow at noon ; 
you will have your reward then and further orders ; but 
see that you keep silence. A single word, and though 
you hid in the farthest corner of India you would not 
escape my vengeance. ” 

Man after man entered. Some of them, like the first, 
were in mendicant’s attire; one or two were fakirs; 
one looked like a well-to-do merchant. With the ex- 
ception of the last, all had a similar tale to tell ; they 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. Q 

had been visiting the various cantonments of the native 
army, everywhere distributing chupaties and whisper- 
ing tales of the intention of the Government to destroy 
the caste of the Sepoys by greasing the cartridges with 
pig’s fat. The man dressed like a trader was the last 
to enter. 

“ How goes it, Mukdoomee?” 

“ It is well, my lord. I have traversed all the dis- 
tricts where we dwelt of old, before the Feringhee 
stamped us out, and sent scores to death and hundreds 
to prison. Most of the latter whom death has spared 
are free now, and with many of them have I talked. 
They are most of them old, and few would take the 
road again; but scarce one but has trained up his son 
or grandson to the work — not to practise it: the hand 
of the whites was too heavy before, and the gains are 
not large enough to tempt men to run the risk; but 
they teach them for the love of the art. To a worshipper 
of the goddess, there is joy in a cleverly contrived plan, 
and in casting the roomal round the neck of the victim, 
that can never die. Often in my young days, when per- 
haps twelve of ns were on the road in a party, we made 
less than we could have done by labor, but none minded. 

“We were sworn brothers; we were working for 
Kaili; and so that we sent her victims we cared little. 
Even after fifteen or twenty years spent in the Ferin- 
ghee’s prisons, we love it still. None hate the white 
man as we do. Has he not destroyed our profession? 
We have two things to work for — first, for vengeance; 
second, for the certainty that if the white man’s Raj 
were at an end, once again would the brotherhood fol- 
low their profession, and reap booty for ourselves and 
victims for Kaili ; for assuredly no native prince would 
dare to meddle with us. Therefore, upon every man 
who was once a Thug, and upon his sons and grandsons, 
you may depend. I do not say that they would be use- 
ful for fighting, for we have never been fighters ; but the 
stranglers will be of use. You can trust them with 
missions, and send them where yOu choose. From their 
fathers’ lips they have learned all about places and 
roads. They can decoy Feringhee travellers, the com- 


lO 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


pany’s servants or soldiers, into quiet places and slay 
them. They can creep into compounds and into houses, 
and choose their victims from the sleepers. You can 
trust them. Rajah, for they have learned to hate, and 
each in his way will, when the time comes, aid to stir 
up men to rise. The past had almost become a dream, 
but I have roused it into life again, and upon the de- 
scendants of the stranglers throughout India you can 
count surely.” 

“ You have not mentioned my name?” the Rajah said 
suddenly, looking closely at the man as he put the 
question. 

“ Assuredly not, your highness. I have simply said 
deliverance is at hand — the hour foretold for the end 
of the Raj of the men from beyond the sea will soon 
strike, and they will disappear from the land like fallen 
leaves. Then will the glory of Kaili return, then again 
will the brotherhood take to the road, and gather in 
victims. I can promise that every one of those whose 
fathers or grandfathers or other kin died by the hand 
of the Feringhee, or suffered in his prisons, will do his 
share of the good work, and be ready to obey to the 
death the orders which will reach him.” 

“ It is good,” the Rajah said. “You and your breth- 
ren will have a rich harvest of victims, and the sacred 
cord need never be idle. Go; it is well-nigh morning, 
and I would sleep.” 

But not for some time did the Rajah close his eyes. 
His brain was busy with the schemes which he had 
long been maturing, but was only now beginning to 
put into action. 

“ It must succeed, ” he said to himself. “ All through 
India the people will take up arms when the Sepoys 
give the signal by rising against their officers. The 
whites are wholly unsuspicious. They even believe 
that I — I. whom they have robbed — am their .friend. 
Fools! I hold them in the hollow of my hand. They 
shall trust me to the last, and then I will crush them. 
Not one shall escape me. Would I were as certain of 
all the other stations in India as I am of this. Oude, I 
know, will rise as one man ; the princes of Delhi I hav^ 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


II 


sounded; they will be the leaders, though the old King 
will be the nominal head; but I shall pull the strings, 
and as Peishwa shall be an independent sovereign, next 
in dignity to the Emperor. Only nothing must be done 
until all is ready; not a movement must be made until 
I feel sure that every native regiment from Calcutta to 
the north is ready to rise.” 

And so until the day had fully broken the Rajah of 
Bithoor thought over his plans — the man who had a few 
hours before so sumptuously entertained the military 
and civilians of Cawnpore, and the man who was uni- 
versally regarded as the firm friend of the British and 
one of the best fellows going. 

The days and weeks passed on; messengers came and 
went; the storm was slowly brewing; and yet to all 
men it seemed that India was never more contented nor 
the outlook more tranquil and assured. 


CHAPTER II. 

A YOUNG man in a suit of brown karkee, with a white 
puggaree wound round his pith helmet, was just mount- 
ing in front of his bungalow at Deennugghur, some 
forty miles from Cawnpore, when two others came up. 

“ Which way are you going to ride, Bathurst?” 

“ I am going out to Narkeet. There is a dispute be- 
tween the villagers and a Talookdar as to their limits. 
I have got to look into the case. Why do you ask, Mr. 
Hunter?” 

“ I thought that you might be going that way. You 
know we have had several reports of ravages by a man- 
eater whose headquarters seem to be that big jungle- 
you pass through on your way to Narkeet. He has been 
paying- visits to several villages in .its neighborhood, 
and has carried off two mail runners. I. should advise 
you to keep a sharp lookout.-” 

“Yes; I have heard plenty about him.' It is unfor- 
tunate we have no one at this station who goes in for 
tiger-hunting. Young Bloxam was speaking to me last 


12 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


night. He is very hot about it ; but as he knows noth- 
ing about shooting, and has never fired off a rifle in his 
life, except at the military target, I told him that it was 
madness to think of it by himself, and that he had bet- 
ter ride down to the regiment at Cawnpore, and get 
them to form a party to come up to hunt the beast. I 
told him they need not bring elephants with them. I 
could get as many as were necessary from some of the 
Talookdars; and there will be no want of beaters. He 
said he would write at once, but he doubted whether 
any of them would be able to get away at present The 
general inspection is just coming on. However, no 
doubt they will be able to before long.” 

“Well, if I were you I would put a pair of pistols into 
my holster, Bathurst. It would be awfully awkward if 
you came across the beast.” 

“I never carry fire-arms,” the young man said 
shortly; and then, more lightly, “ I am a peaceful man 
by profession, as you are, Mr. Hunter, and I leave fire- 
^ arms to those whose profession it is to use them. I 
^ have certainly never met yet with an occasion when 
I needed them, and am not likely to do so. I always 
carry this heavy hunting-whip, which I find useful some- 
times when the village dogs rush out and pretend that 
they are going to attack me, and I fancy that even an 
Oude swordsman would think twice before attacking me 
when I had it in hand. But of course there is no fear 
about the tiger. I generally ride pretty fast; and even 
if he were lying by the roadside waiting for a meal, I 
don’t think he would be likely to interfere with me.” 
So saying, he lightly touched the horse’s flanks with 
his spurs and cantered off. 

“He is a fine young fellow. Garnet,” Mr. Hunter 
said to his companion; “full of energy; and they say 
the very best linguist in Oude. ” 

“Yes, he is all that,” the other agreed; “but he is a 
sort of fellow one does not quite understand. I like a 
man who is like other fellows; Bathurst isn’t. He 
doesn’t shoot, he doesn’t ride — I mean he don’t care for 
pig-sticking; he never goes in for any fun there may 
be on hand. He just works; nothing else. He does 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


^3 


not seem to mix with other people; he is the sort of 
fellow one would say had got some sort of secret con- 
nected with him.” 

“ If he has, I am certain it is nothing to his personal 
disadvantage,” Mr. Hunter said warmly. “I have 
known him for the last six years — I won’t say very well, 
for I don’t think any one does that, except, perhaps. 
Doctor Wade. When there was awing of the regiment 
up here, three years ago, he and Bathurst took to each 
other very much — perhaps because they were both dif- 
ferent from other people. But, anyhow, from what I 
know of Bathurst, I believe him to be a very fine char- 
acter, though there is certainly an amount of reserve 
about him altogether unusual. At any rate, the service 
is a gainer by it. I never knew a fellow work so inde- 
fatigably. He will take a very high place in the service 
before he has done.” 

“ I am not so sure of that,” the other said. “ He is a 
man with opinions of his own and all sorts of crotchets 
and fads. He has been in hot water with the chief 
commissioner more than once. When I was over at 
Lucknow last I was chatting with two or three men, 
and his name happened to crop up. One of them said: 
‘Bathurst is a sort of knight errant, an official Don 
Quixote. Perhaps the best officer in the province in 
some respects, but hopelessly impracticable. ’ ” 

“Yes; that I can quite understand. Garnet. That 
sort of man is never popular with the higher official, 
whose likings go to the man who does neither too much 
nor too little, who does his work without questioning, 
never thinks of making suggestions, and is a mere offi- 
cial machine. Men of Bathurst’s type, who go to the 
bottom of things, protest against what they consider 
unfair decisions, and send in memorandums showing 
that their superiors are hopelessly ignorant and idioti- 
cally wrong, are always cordially disliked. Still, they 
generally work their way to the front in the long run. 
Well, I must be off.” 

Bathurst rode to Narkeet without drawing rein. His 
horse at times slackened its pace on its own accord, but 
an almost mechanical motion from its rider’s heel soon 


14 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

Started it off again at the rapid pace at which its rideT 
ordinarily travelled. From the time he left Deennug- 
ghur to his arrival at Narkeet no thought of the dreaded 
man-eater entered Bathurst’s mind. He was deeply 
meditating on a memorandum he was about to draw up 
respecting a decision that had been arrived at in a case 
between a Talookdar in his district and the Government, 
and in which, as it appeared to him, a wholly errone- 
ous and unjust view had been taken as to the merits of 
the case ; and he only roused himself when the horse 
broke into a walk as it entered the village. Two or 
three of the head men, with many bows and salutations 
of respect, came out to receive him. “ My lord Sahib 
has seen nothing of the tiger?” the head man said. 
“ Our hearts were melted with fear, for the evil beast 
was heard roaring in the jungle not far from the road 
early this morning. 

“I never gave it a thought, one way or the other,” 
Bathurst said, as he dismounted. “ I fancy the horse 
would let me know if it had been anywhere near. See 
that he is tied up in the shed, and that he has food and 
water, and put a boy to keep the flies from worrying 
him. And now, let us get to business. First of all, I 
must go through the village records and documents; 
after that I will question four or five of the oldest in- 
habitants, and then we must go over the ground. The 
whole question turns, you know, upon whether the irri- 
gation ditch mentioned in the Talookdar’s grant is the 
one that runs across at the foot of the rising ground on 
his side or whether it is the one that sweeps round on 
this side of the grove with the little temple in it. Un- 
fortunately, most of the best land lies between those 
ditches.” 

For hours Bathurst listened to the statements of the 
old people of the village, cross-questioning them closely 
and sparing no efforts to sift the truth from their con- 
fused and often contradictory evidence. Then he spent 
two hours going over the ground, endeavoring to sat- 
isfy himself which of the two ditches was the one named 
in the village records. He had two days before taken 
equal pains in sifting the evidence on the other side. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 15 

“ I trust that my lord sees there can be no doubt as 
to the justice of our claim,” the head man said humbly, 
as he prepared to mount again. 

“ According to your point of view, there is no doubt 
about it, Chi Idee ; but then there is equally no doubt 
the other way, according to the statements on the other 
side. That is generally the way in all these land dis- 
putes. For good hard swearing, your Hindoo cultivator 
can be matched against the world. Unfortunately there 
is nothing either in your grant or in your neighbors’ 
that specifies unmistakably which- of these ancient 
ditches is the one referred to. My present impression 
is that it is essentially a case for a compromise, but you 
know the final decision does not rest on me. I shall be 
out here again next week, and I shall write to the Ta- 
lookdar to meet me here, and we will go over the 
ground together again, and see if we cannot arrange 
some line that will be fair to both parties. If we can 
do that, the matter would be settled without expense 
and trouble, whereas if it goes up to Lucknow it may 
all have to be gone into again ; and if the decision is 
given against you — and as far as I can see it is just as 
likely to be one way as another — it will be a serious 
thing for the village.” 

“We are in my lord’s hands,” the native said; “he 
is the protector of the poor, and will do us justice.” 

“ I will do you justice, Childee; but I must do justice 
to the other side too. Of course, neither of you will be 
satisfied; but that cannot be helped.” His perfect 
knowledge of their language, the pains he took to sift 
all matters brought before him to the bottom, had ren- 
dered the young officer very popular among the natives. 
They knew they could get justice from him direct. 
There was no necessity to bribe underlings. He had 
the knack of extracting the truth from the mass of lying 
evidence always forthcoming in native cases, and even 
the defeated party admired the manner in which the 
fabric of falsehood was pulled to pieces. But the main 
reason of his popularity was his sympathy, the real in- 
terest which he showed in their cases, and the patience 
with which he listened to their stories. 


l6 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

Bathurst himself, as he rode homeward, was still 
thinking of the case. Of course there had been lying 
on both sides ; but to that he was accustomed. It was 
a question of importance — of greater importance, no 
doubt, to the villagers than to their opponent, but still 
important to him — for this tract of land was a valuable 
one, and of considerable extent, and there was really 
nothing in the documents produced on either side to 
show which ditch was intended by the original grants. 
Bividently at the time they were made, very many 
years before, one ditch or the other was not in exist- 
ence, but there was no proof as to which was the more 
recent, although both sides professed that all traditions 
handed down to them asserted the ditch on their side to 
be the more recent. 

He was riding along the road through the great jun- 
gle, at his horse’s own pace, which happened for the 
moment to be a gentle trot, when a piercing cry rang 
through the air a hundred yards ahead. Bathurst 
started from his revery, and spurred his horse sharply. 
The animal dashed forward at a gallop. At a turn in 
the road he saw, twenty yards ahead of him, a tiger, 
standing with a foot upon a prostrate figure, while a 
man stood in front of it gesticulating wildly. The 
tiger stood as if hesitating whether to strike down the 
figure in front or to content itself with that already in 
its power. 

The wild shouts of the man had apparently drowned 
the sound of the horse’s feet upon the soft road, for the 
animal drew back half a pace as it suddenly came into 
view. 

The horse swerved at the sight, and reared high in 
the air as Bathurst drove his spurs into him. As its 
feet touched the ground again Bathurst sprang off and 
rushed at the tiger, bringing down the heavy lash of 
his whip with all his force across its head. With a 
fierce snarl it sprang back two paces, but again and 
again the whip descended upon it. Bewildered and 
amazed at the attack, it turned swiftly and sprang 
through the bushes. 

Bathurst, knowing that there was no fear of its re- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

turning, turned at once to the figure on the road. It 
was, as in even the momentary glance, he had noticed, 
a woman, or rather a girl of some fourteen or fifteen 
years of age. The man had dropped on his knees be- 
moaning and uttering incoherent words. 

“I see no blood,” Bathurst said, and stooping, lifted 
the light figure. “ Her heart beats, man; I think she 
has only fainted. The tiger must have knocked her 
down in his spring without striking her. So far as I 
can see, she is unhurt.” He carried her to the horse, 
which stood trembling a few yards away, took a flask 
from the holster, and poured a little brandy and water 
between her lips. 

Presently there was a faint sigh. “ She is coming 
round,” he said to the man, who was still kneeling, 
looking on with vacant eyes, as though he had neither 
heard nor comprehended what Bathurst was doing. 
Presently the girl moved slightly and opened her eyes! 
At first there was no expression in them ; then a vague 
wonder stole into them at the white face looking down 
upon her. She closed them again, and then reopened 
them, and then there was a slight struggle to free her- 
self. He allowed her to slip through his arms until her 
feet touched the ground ; then her eyes fell on the kneel- 
ing figure. 

“ Father !” she exclaimed. With a cry the man leaped 
to his feet, sprang to her and seized her in his arms, 
and poured out words of endearment. Then suddenly 
he released her and threw himself on the ground before 
Bathurst, with ejaculations of gratitude and thankful- 
ness. “Get up, man; get up,” the latter said. “Your 
daughter can scarce stand alone, and the sooner we get 
away from this place the better. That savage beast is 
not likely to return, but he may do so; let us be off.” 
He mounted his horse again, brought it up to the side 
of the girl, and then leaning over took her and swung 
her into the saddle in front of him. The man took up a 
large box that was lying in the road and hoisted it on to 
his shoulders, and then, at a foot’s pace, they proceeded 
on their way — Bathurst keeping a close watch on the 
jungle at the side on which the tiger had entered it. 


m THE DAYS Of THE MUTINY. 


l8 


“ How came you to come along this road alone?” he 
asked the man. “ The natives only venture through in 
large parties because of this tiger. ” 

“ I am a stranger,” the man answered. “ I heard at 
the village where we slept last night that there was a 
tiger in this jungle, but I thought we should be through 
it before nightfall and therefore there was no danger. 
If one heeded all they say about tigers, one would never 
travel at all. I am a juggler, and we are on our way 
down the country through Cawnpore and Allahabad. 
Had it not been for the valor of my lord Sahib, we 
should never have got there, for had I lost my Rabda, 
the light of my heart, I should have gone no further, 
but should have waited for the tiger to take me also.” 

“There was no particular valor about it,” Bathurst 
said shortly. “ I saw the beast with his foot on your 
daughter, and dismounted to beat him off just as if he 
had been a dog, without thinking whether there was 
any danger in it or not. Men do it with savage beasts 
in menageries every day. They are cowardly brutes 
after all, and can’t stand the lash. He was taken alto- 
gether by surprise, too. ” \ 

“ My lord has saved my daughter’s life, and mine is 
at his service henceforth,” the man said. “ The mouse 
is a small beast, but he may warn the lion. The white 
Sahibs are brave and strong. Would one of my coun- 
trymen have ventured his life to attack a tiger armed 
only with a whip, for the sake of the life of a poor way- 
farer?” 

“Yes, I think there are many who would have done 
so,” Bathurst replied. “You do your countrymen in- 
justice. There are plenty of brave men among them, 
and I have heard before now of villagers armed only 
with sticks attacking a tiger who had carried off a vic- 
tim from among them. You yourself were standing 
boldly before it when I came up.” 

“ My child was under its feet. Besides, I never 
thought of myself. If I had had a weapon, I should 
not have drawn it. . I had no thought of the tiger. I 
only thought that my child was dead. She works with 
me. Sahib, since her mother died, five years ago. We 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


19 

have travelled together over the country. She plays 
while I conjure. She takes round the saucer for the 
money, and she acts with me in the tricks that require 
two persons. It is she who disappears from the basket. 
We are everything to each other, Sahib. But what is 
my lord’s name? Will he tell his servant, that he and 
Rabda may think of him and tal^ of him as they tramp 
the roads together?” 

“ My name is Ralph Bathurst. I am District Officer 
at Deennugghur. How far are you going this evening?” 

“ We shall sleep at the first village we come to. Sahib. 
We have walked many hours to-day, and this box, 
though its contents are not weighty, is heavy to bear. 
We thought of going down to-morrow to Deennugghur, 
and showing our performances to the Sahib-logue there. ” 

“ Very well ; but there is one thing — what is your 
name?” 

“ Rujub.J’ 

“ Well, Rujub, if you go on to Deennugghur to-mor- 
row, say nothing to any one there about this affair with 
the tiger; it is nothing to talk about. I am not a she- 
kani, but a hard-working official, and I don’t want to 
be talked about.” 

“ The Sahib’s wish shall be obeyed,” the man said. 

“You can come round to my bungalow and ask for 
me. I shall be glad to hear whether your daughter is 
any the worse for her scare. How do you feel, Rabda?” 

“ I feel as one in a dream. Sahib. I saw a great yel- 
low beast springing through the air, and I cried out and 
I knew nothing more till I saw the vSahib’s face; and 
now I have heard him and my father talking, but their 
voices sound to me as if far away, though I know that 
)"ou are holding me.” 

“You will be all the better after a night’s rest, child. 
No wonder you feel strange and shaken. Another quar- 
ter of an hour and we shall be at the village. I sup- 
pose, Rujub, you were born a conjurer?” 

“Yes, Sahib, it is always so — it goes down from 
father to son. As soon as I was able to walk I began to 
work with my father, and as I grew up he initiated me 
in the secrets of our craft, which we may never divulge. ” 


20 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“No; 1 know they are a mystery. Many of your 
tricks can be done by our conjurers at home, but thero 
are some that have never been solved. ” 

“ I have been offered more than once large sums by 
English Sahibs to tell them how some of the feats were 
done ; but I could not. We are bound by terrible oaths, 
and in no case has a juggler proved false to them. 
Were one to do so, he would be slain without mercy, 
and his fate in the next world would be terrible ; for- 
ever and forever his soul would passthrough the bodies 
of the foulest and lowest creatures, and there would be 
no forgiveness for him. I would give my life for the 
Sahib; but even to him I would not divulge our mys- 
teries.” 

In a few minutes they came to the first village beyond 
the jungle. As they approached it Bathurst checked 
his horse and lifted the girl down. She took his hand 
and pressed her forehead to it. 

“I shall see you to-morrow, then, Rujub,” he said, 
and shaking the reins went on at a canter. 

“ That is a new character for me to come out in,” he 
said bitterly. “ I do not know myself — I, of all men. 
But there was no bravery in it. It never occurred to 
me to be afraid. I just thrashed him off as I should 
beat off a dog who was killing a lamb. There was no 
noise, and it is noise that frightens me. If the brute 
had roared, I should assuredly have run ; I know it 
would have been so ; I could not have helped it to have 
saved my life. It is an awful curse that I am not as 
other men, and that I tremble and shake like a girl at 
the sound'of fire-arms. It would have been better if I 
had been killed by the first shot fired in the Punjaub 
eight years ago, or if I had blown my brains out at the 
end of the day. Good heavens! what have I suffered 
since. But I will not think of it. Thank God I have 
got my work, and as long as I keep my thoughts on 
that there is no room for that other,” and then by a 
great effort of will Ralph Bathurst put the past behind 
him, and concentrated his thoughts on the work on 
which he had been that day engaged. 

The juggler did not arrive on the following evening, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


21 


as he had expected ; but late in the afternoon a native 
boy brought in a message from him, saying that his 
daughter was too shaken and ill to travel, but that they 
would come when she recovered. 

A week later, on returning from a long day’s work, 
Bathurst was told that a juggler was in the veranda 
! waiting to see him. 

“I told him. Sahib,” the servant said, “that you 
cared not for such entertainments, and that he had bet- 
ter go elsewhere ; but he insisted that you yourself had 
told him to come, and so I let him wait.” 

“ Has he a girl with him, Jafur?” 

^ “Yes, Sahib.” Bathurst strolled round to the other 
side of the bungalow, where Rujub was sitting patiently 
with Rabda wrapped in her blue cloth beside him. 
They rose to their feet. 

“ I am glad to see your daughter is better ap-ain 
Rujub.” ^ ’ 

“She is better. Sahib; she has had fever, but is re- 
stored.” 

“ I cannot see your juggling to-night, Rujub. I have 
had a heavy day’s work, and am worn out and have still 
work to do. You had better go round to some of the 
other bungalows, though I don’t think you will do much 
this evening, for there is a dinner party at the Collec- 
tor’s, and almost every one will be there. My servants 
will give you food. I shall be off at seven o’clock in 
the morning, but shall be glad to see you before I start. 
Are you in want of money?” and he put his hand in his 
pocket. 

“No, Sahib,” the juggler said. “We have money 
sufficient for all our wants; we are not thinking of per- 
forming to-night, for Rabda is not equal to it. Before 
sunrise we shall be on our way again. I must be at 
Cawnpore, and we have delayed too long already. 
Could you give us but half an hour to-night. Sahib? 
We will come at an}^ hour you like. I would show you 
things that few Englishmen have seen. Not mere com- 
mon tricks. Sahib, but mysteries such as are known to 
few even of us. Do not say no. Sahib. ” 

“ Well, if you wish it, Rujub, I will give you half 


22 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


an hour,” and Bathurst looked at his watch. “It is 
seven now, and I have to dine. I have work to do that 
will take me three hours at least; but at eleven I shall 
have finished. You will see a light in my room ; come 
straight to the open window.” 

“We will be there, Sahib,” and with a salaam the 
juggler walked off, followed by his daughter. 

A few minutes before the appointed time Bathurst 
threw down his pen, with a little sigh of satisfaction. 
The memo he had just finished was a most conclusive 
one. It seemed to him unanswerable, and that the de- 
partment would have trouble in disputing his facts and 
figures. He had not since he sat down to his work 
given another thought to the juggler, and he almost 
started as a figure appeared in the veranda at the open 
window. “Ah, Rujub, is it you? I have just finished 
my work. Come in. Is Rabda with you?” 

“ She will remain outside until I want her,” the jug- 
gler said as he entered and squatted himself on the 
floor. “I am not going to juggle. Sahib. With us 
there are two sorts of feats. There are those that are 
performed by sleight of hand, or by means of assistance. 
These are the juggler’s tricks we show in the verandas 
and compounds of the white Sahibs and in the streets 
of the cities. There are others that are known only to 
the higher order among us, that we show only on rare 
occasions. They have come to us from the oldest times, 
and it is said they were brought by wise men from 
Egypt, but that I know not.” 

“ I have always been interested in juggling, and have 
seen many things that I cannot understand, ” Bathurst 
said. “ I have seen the basket trick done on the road in 
front of the veranda, as well as in other places, and I 
cannot in any way account for it.” The juggler took 
from his basket a piece of wood about two feet in length 
and some four inches in diameter. 

“You see this?” he said. 

Bathurst took it in his hand. “ It looks like a bit 
sawn off a telegraph pole,” he said. 

“Will you come outside. Sahib?” 

The night was very dark, but the lamp on the tabl^ 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


23 


threw its light through the window on to the drive in 
front of the veranda. Rujub took with him a piece 
of wood about nine inches square, with a soft pad on 
the top. He went out in the drive and placed the piece 
of pole upright, and laid the wood with the cushion on 
the top. 

“ Now, will you stand in the veranda awhile?” 

Bathurst stood back by the side of the window so as 
not to interfere with the passage of the light. Rabda 
stole forward and sat down upon the cushion. “ Now 
watch. Sahib.” Bathurst looked, and saw the block of 
wood apparently growing. Gradually it rose until 
Rabda passed up beyond the light in the room. 

“You may come out,” the juggler said, “but do not 
touch the pole. If you do, it will cause a fall, which 
would be fatal to my child. ” 

Bathurst stepped out and looked up. He could but 
just make out the figure of Rabda, seemingly already 
higher than the top of the bungalow. Gradually it be- 
came more and more indistinct. 

“ You are there, Rabda?” her father said. 

“I am here, father!” and the voice seemed to come 
from a considerable distance. 

Again and again the question was asked, and the an- 
swer became fainter and fainter, although it sounded 
as if it was a distant cry in response to Rujub ’s shout 
rather than spoken in an ordinary voice. 

At last no response was heard. 

“ Now it shall descend,” the juggler said. 

Two or three minutes passed, and then Bathurst, 
who was staring up into the darkness, could make out 
the end of the pole with the seat upon it; but Rabda 
was no longer there. Rapidly it sank until it stood its 
original height on the ground. 

“ Where is Rabda?” Bathurst exclaimed. 

“She is^here, my lord,” and as he spoke Rabda rose 
from a sitting position on the balcony close to Bathurst. 

“It is marvellous,” the latter exclaimed. “I have 
heard of that feat before, but have never seen it. May 
I take up that piece of wood?” 

“Assuredly, Sahib.” 


24 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Bathurst took it up and carried it to the light. It 
was undoubtedly, as he had before supposed, a piece of 
solid wood. The juggler had not touched it, or he 
would have supposed he might have substituted for the 
piece he first examined a sort of telescope of thin sheets 
of steel ; but even that would not have accounted for 
Rabda’s disappearance. 

“ I will show you one other feat, my lord." He took 
a brass dish, placed a few pieces of wood and charcoal 
in it, struck a match, set the wood on fire, fanned it 
until the wood had burnt out, and the charcoal was in 
a glow ; then he sprinkled some powder upon it, and a 
dense white smoke rose. 

“ Now turn out the lamp, Sahib. ’’ 

Bathurst did so. The glow of the charcoal enabled 
him still to see the light smoke ; this seemed to him to 
become clearer and clearer. 

“Now for the past," Rujub said. The smoke grew 
brighter and brighter and mixed with flashes of color. 
Presently Bathurst- saw clearly an Indian scene; a vil- 
lage stood on a crest, jets of smoke darted up from be- 
tween the houses, and then a line of troops in scarlet 
uniform advanced against the village, firing as they 
went. They paused for a moment, and then with a 
rush went at the village and disappeared in the smoke 
over the crest. 

“ Good heavens, " Bathurst muttered ; “it is the bat- 
tle of Chillianwalla." 

“The future," Rujub said, and the colors on the 
smoke changed. Bathurst saw a wall surrounding a 
court-yard; on one side was a house. It had evidently 
been besieged, for in the upper part were many ragged 
holes, and two of the windows were knocked into one. 
On the roof were men firing, and there were one or two 
women among them. He could see their faces and 
features distinctly. In the court-yard wall there was a 
gap, and through this a crowd of Sepoys were making 
their way, while a handful of whites were defending a 
breastwork. Among them he recognized his own figure ; 
he saw himself club his rifle and leap down into the 
middle of tl^' Sepoys, fighting furiously there. The 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


25 


colors faded away and the room was in darkness again. 
There was the crack of a match, and then Rnjub said 
quietly: “If you will lift off the globe* again, I will 
light the lamp. Sahib.” Bathurst almost mechanically 
did as he was told. 

“Well, Safiib, what do you think of the pictures?” 

“The first was true,” Bathurst said quietly, “though 
how you knew I was with the regiment that stormed the 
village at Chillianwalla I know not. The second is 
certainly not true.” 

“ You can never know what the future will be. Sahib, ” 
the juggler said, gravely. 

“ That is so,” Bathurst said; “ but I know enough of 
myself to say that it cannot be true. I do not say that 
the Sepoys can never be fighting against whites, im- 
probable as it seems ; but that I w^as doing what that 
figure did is, I know, impossible.” 

“Time will show. Sahib,” the juggler said. “The 
pictures never lie. Shall I show you other things?” 

“ No, Rujub, you have shown me enough ; you as- 
tound me. I want to see no more to-night.” 

“ Then farewell. Sahib. We shall meet again, I 
doubt not, and mayhap I may be able to repay the debt 
I owe 3^ou,” and Rujub, lifting his basket, went out 
through the window without another word. . 


CHAPTER III. 

Some seven or eight officers were sitting round the 
table in the mess-room of the 103d Bengal Infantry at 
Cawnpore. It had been a guest night, but the strang- 
ers had left, the lights had been turned out in the bil- 
liard-room overhead, the whist-party had broken up, 
and the players had rejoined three officers who had re- 
mained at table smoking and talking quietly. 

Outside, through the open French windows, the 
ground looked as if sprinkled with snow beneath the 
white light of the full moon. Two or three of the mess 
servants were squatting in the veranda talking in low 


26 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


voices. A sentry walked backward and forward by the 
gate leading into the mess-house compound ; beyond, 
the maidan stretched away flat and level to the low huts 
of the native lines on the other side. 

“So the Doctor comes back to-morrow^ Major,” the 
Adjutant, who had been one of the whist-party, said. 
“ I shall be very glad to have him back. In the first 
place, he is a capital fellow, and keeps us all alive ; 
secondly, he is a good deal better doctor than the sta- 
tion surgeon who has been looking after the men since 
we have been here ; and lastly, if I had got anything 
the matter with me myself I would rather be in his 
hands than those of any one else I know.” 

“Yes, I agree with you, Prothero; the Doctor is as 
good a fellow as ever stepped. There is no doubt about 
his talent in his profession; and there are a good many 
of us who owed our lives to him when we were down 
with cholera in that bad attack three years ago. He is 
good all round ; he is just as keen a shikar as he was 
when he joined the regiment, twenty years ago; he is 
a good billiard player, and one of the best story-tellers 
I ever came across; but his best point is that he is such 
a thoroughly good fellow — always ready to do a good 
turn to any one, and to help a lame dog over a stile. I 
could name a dozen men in India who owe their com- 
missions to him. I don’t know what the regiment 
would do without him.” 

“ He went home on leave just after I joined,” one of 
the subalterns said. “ Of course I know, from what I 
have heard of him, that he is an awfully good fellow, 
but from what little I saw of him myself he seemed al- 
ways growling and snapping.” 

There ^was a general laugh from the others. 

“Yes, that is his way, Richards,” the Major said; 
“ he believes himself to be one of the most cynical and 
morose of men. ” 

“ He was married, wasn’t he, Major?”. 

“Yes, it was a sad business. It was only just after I 
joined. He is three years senior to me in the regiment. 
PleVas appointed to it a month or two after the Colonel 
joined, Well, as I say, a month or two after I came to 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 


27 


it he went away on leave down to Calcutta, where he 
was to meet a young lady who had been engaged to him 
before he left home. They were married, and he 
brought her up country. Before she had been with us 
a month we had one of those outbreaks of cholera. It 
wasn’t a very severe one. I think we only lost eight 
or ten men, and no officer; but the Doctor’s young wife 
was attacked, and in three or four hours she was car-* 
ried off. It regularly broke him down. However, he 
got over it, as we all do, I suppose; and now I think 
he is married to the regiment. He could have had staff 
appointments a score of times, but he has always re- 
fused them. His time is up next year, and he could 
go home with full pay, but I don’t suppose he will.” 

“And your niece arrives with him to-morrow. Major,” 
the Adjutant said. 

“Yes, I am going to try petticoat government, Pro- 
thero; I don’t know how the experiment will succeed, 
but I am tired of an empty bungalow and L have been 
looking forward for some years to her being old enough 
to come out and take charge. It is ten years since I 
was home, and she was a little chit of eight years at 
that time.” 

“ I think a vote of thanks ought to be passed to you, 
Major. We have only married ladies in the regiment, 
and it will wake us up and do us good to have Miss 
Hannay among us.” 

“There are the Colonel’s daughters,” the Major said, 
with a smile. 

“Yes, there are, Major, but they hardly count; they 
are scarcely conscious of th^ existence of poor creatures 
like us ; nothing short of., a Resident or, at any rate, of 
a full-blown collector will find favor in their eyes.” 

“ Well, I warn you all fairly,” the Major said, “that 
I shall set my face against all sorts of philandering and 
love-making. I am bringing my niece out here as my 
housekeeper and companion, and not as a prospective 
wife for any of you youngsters. I hope she will turn 
out as plain as a pikestaff, and then I may have some 
hopes of keeping her with me for a time. The Doctor, 
in his letter from Calcutta, says nothing as to what she 


28 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


is like, though he is good enough to remark that she 
seemed to have a fair share of common sense, and has 
given him no more trouble on the voyage than what 
was to be expected under the circumstances. And now, 
lads, it is nearly two o’clock, and as there is early pa- 
rade to-morrow, it is high time for you to be all in your 
beds. What a blessing it would be if the sun would 
'forget to shine for a bit on this portion of the world, 
and we could have an arctic night of seven or eight 
months with a full moon the whole time!” 

A few minutes later the mess-room was empty, the 
lights turned out, and the servants, wrapped up in their 
blankets, had disposed themselves for sleep in the ve- 
randa. 

As soon as morning parade was over. Major Hannay 
went back to his bungalow, looked round to see that his 
bachelor quarters were as bright and tidy as possible, 
then got into a light suit and went down to the post- 
house. A quarter of an hour later a cloud of dust along 
the road betokened the approach of the dak-gharry, 
and two or three minutes later it dashed up at full gal- 
lop amid a loud and continuous cracking of the driver’s 
whip. The wiry little horses were drawn up with a 
sudden jerk. The Major opened the door. A little 
man sprang out and grasped him by the hand. 

“ Glad to see you. Major — thoroughly glad to be back 
again. Here is your niece; I deliver her safe and 
sound into your hands.” And between them they 
helped a girl to alight from the vehicle. 

“ I am heartily glad to see you, my dear,” the Major 
said, as he kissed her; “though I don’t think I should 
have known you again. ” 

“I should think not, uncle,” the girl said. “In the 
first place, I was a little girl in short frocks when I saw 
you last ; and in the second place, I am so covered with 
the dust that you can hardly see what I am like. I 
think I should have known you ; your visit made a great 
impression upon us, though I can remember now how 
disappointed we were when 5"OU first arrived that you 
hadn’t a red coat and a sword, as we had expected.” 

“ Well, we may as well be off at once, Isobel ; it is 


IN THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. iQ 

only five minutes’ walk to the bungalow. My man will 
see to your luggage being brought up. Come along, 
Doctor. Of course you will put up with me until you 
can look round and fix upon quarters. I told Rumzan 
to bring your things round with my niece’s. You have 
had a very pleasant voyage out, I hope, Isobel?” he 
went on as they started. 

“Very pleasant, uncle, though I got rather tired of 
it at last.” 

“ That is generally the way — every one is pleasant and 
agreeable at first, but before they get to the end they 
take to quarrelling like cats and dogs.” 

“ We were not quite as bad as that,” the girl laughed, 
“ but we certainly weren’t as amiable the last month or 
so as we were during the first part of the voyage. Still, 
it was very pleasant all along, and nobody quarrelled 
with me.” 

“Present company are always excepted,” the Doctor 
said. “ I stood loco pare7itis^ Major, and the result 
has been that I shall feel in future more charitable 
toward mothers of marriageable daughters. Still, I am 
bound to say that Miss Hannay has given me as little 
trouble as could be expected. ” 

“You frighten me. Doctor; if you found her so oner- 
ous only for the voyage, what have I to look forward 
to?” 

“Well, you can’t say that I didn’t warn you. Major; 
when you wrote home and asked me to take charge of 
your niece on the way out, I told you frankly that my 
opinion of your good sense was shaken. ” 

“Yes, you did express yourself with some strength,” 
the Major laughed; “but then one is so accustomed to 
that, that I did not take it to heart as I might otherwise 
have done.” 

“ That was before you knew me. Dr. Wade, otherwise 
I should feel very hurt,” the girl put in. 

“Yes, it was,” the Doctor said dryly. 

“ Don’t mind him, my dear,” her uncle said, “we all 
know the Doctor of old. There, this is my bungalow.” 

“ It is pretty with all these flowers and shrubs round 
it,” she said admiringly. 


30 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“Yes, we have been doing- a good deal of watering 
the last few weeks, so as to get it to look its best. This 
is your special attendant, she will take you up to your 
room. By the time you have had a bath your boxes will 
be here. I told them to have a cup of tea ready for you 
upstairs. Breakfast will be on the table by the time 
you are ready." 

“Well, old friend," he said to the Doctor, when the 
girl had gone upstairs, “no complications, I hope, on 
the voyage?" 

“No, I think not," the Doctor said. “Of course, 
there were lots of young puppies on board, and as she 
was out-and-out the best-looking girl in the ship, half 
of them were dancing attendance upon her all the voy- 
age, but I am bound to say that she acted like a sensi- 
ble young woman ; and though she was pleasant with 
them all, she didn’t get into any flirtation with one 
more than another. I did my best to look after her, 
but, of course, that would have been of no good if she 
had been disposed to go her own way. I fancy about 
half of them proposed to her — not that she ever said as 
much to me — but whenever I observed one looking sulky 
and giving himself airs I could guess pretty well what 
had happened. These young puppies are all alike, and 
we are not without experience of the species out here. 

“ Seriously, Major, I think you are to be congratu- 
lated. I consider that you ran a tremendous risk in 
asking a young woman, of whom you knew nothing, to 
come out to you ; still it has turned out well. If she 
had been a frivolous, giggling thing, like most of them, 

I had made up my mind to do you a good turn by help- 
ing to get her engaged on the voyage, and should have 
seen her married off-hand at Calcutta, and have come 
up and told you that you were well out of the scrape. 
As, contrary to my expectations, she turned out to be 
a sensible young woman I did my best the other way. 
It is likely enough you may have her on your hands 
some little time, for I don’t think she is likely to be 
caught by the first comer. Well, I must go and have 
my bath, the dust has been awful coming up from Al- 
lahabad. That is one advantage, and the only one as 


IN THE DAVS OF THE MUTINY. 


31 

far as I can see, that they have got in England. They 
don’t know what dust is there.” 

When the bell for breakfast rang, and Isobel made 
her appearance, looking fresh and cool in a light dress, 
the Major said: “You must take the head of the table, 
my dear, and assume the reins of government forthwith. ” 

“Then I should say, uncle, that if any guidance is 
required there will be an upset in a very short time. 
No, that won’t do at all. You must go on just as you 
were before, and I shall look on and learn. As far as I 
can see everything is perfect, just as it is. This is a 
charming room, and I am sure there is no fault to be 
found with the arrangement of these flowers on the 
table. As for the cooking, everything looks very nice, 
and, anyhow, if you have not been able to get them to 
cook to your taste it is of no use my attempting any- 
thing in that way. Besides, I suppose I must learn 
something of the language before I can attempt to do 
anything. No, uncle, I will sit in this chair if you like 
and make tea and pour it out, but that is the beginning 
and the end of my assumption of the head of the estab- 
lishment at present.” 

“ Well, Isobel, I hardly expected that you were going 
to run the establishment just at fir t; indeed, as far as 
that goes, one’s butler, if he is a good man, has pretty 
well a free hand. He is generally responsible, and is 
in fact what we should call at home housekeeper — he 
and the cook between them arrange everything. I say 
to him, ‘Three gentlemen are coming to tiffin.’ He 
nods and says, ‘ Atcha, Sahib, ’ which means all right, sir, 
and then I know it will be all right. If I have a fancy 
for any special thing, of course I say so. Otherwise, 

I leave it to them, and if the result is not satisfactory 
I blow up. Nothing can be more simple.” 

“ But how about bills, uncle?” 

“ Well, my dear, the butler gives them to me and I 
pay them. He has been with me a good many years, 
and will not let the others — that is to say, the cook and 
the syce, the washerman, and so on — cheat me beyond a 
reasonable amount. Do you, Rumzan?” 

Rumzan, who was standing behind the Major’s chair 


32 


IN THE 13AYS OF THE MUTINY. 


in a white turban and dress with a red and white sash 
round his waist, smiled. 

“ Rumzan not let any one rob his master.” 

“ Not to any great extent, you know, Rumzan. One 
doesn’t expect more than that.” 

“ It is just the same here. Miss Hannay, as it is every- 
where else,” said the Doctor, “ only in big establishments 
in England they rob you of pounds while here they rob 
you of annas, which, as I have explained to you, are 
twopence-halfpennies. The person who undertakes 
to put down little speculations enters upon a war in 
which he is sure to get the worst of it. He wastes his 
time, spoils his temper, makes himself and every one 
around him uncomfortable, and after all he is robbed. 
Life is too short for it, especially in a climate like this. 
Of course in time you get to understand the language ; 
if you see anything in the' bills that strikes you as show- 
ing waste, you can go into the thing, but as a rule you 
trust entirely to your butler; if you cannot trust him, 
get another one. Rumzan has been with your uncle 
ten years, so you are fortunate. If the Major had gone 
home instead of me, and if you had had an entirely 
fresh establishment of servants to look after, the case 
would have been different; as it is you will have no 
trouble that way.” 

“Then what are my duties to be, uncle?” 

“Your chief duties, my dear, are to look pleasant, 
which will evidently be no trouble to you ; to amuse me 
and keep mein a good temper as far as possible; to 
keep on as good terms as may be with the other ladies 
of the station ; and what will perhaps be the most diffi- 
cult part of your work, to snub and keep in order the 
young officers of our own and other corps.” 

Isobel laughed. “That doesn’t sound a very difficult 
programme, uncle, except the last item ; I have already 
had a little experience that way, haven’t I, Doctor? I 
hope I shall have the benefit of your assistance in the 
future, as I had aboard the ship.” 

“I will do my best,” the Doctor said, grimly; “but 
the British subaltern is pretty well impervious to snubs ; 
he belongs to the pachydermatous family of animals; 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


33 

his armor of self-conceit renders him invulnerable 
against the milder forms of raillery. However, I think 
you can be trusted to hold your own with him, Miss 
Hannay, without much assistance from the Major or 
myself. Your real difficulty will lie rather in your 
struggle against the united female forces of the station. ” 

“ But why shall I have to struggle with them?” Iso- 
bel asked in surprise, while her uncle broke into a laugh. 

“ Don’t frighten her. Doctor.” 

“ She is not so easily frightened. Major; it is just as 
well that she should be prepared. Well, my dear 
Miss Hannay, Indian society has this peculiarity, that 
the women never grow old. At least,” he continued, 
in reply to the girl’s look of surprise, “they are never 
conscious of growing old. At home a woman’s family 
grows up about her, and are constant reminders that 
she is becoming a matron. Here the children are sent 
away when they get four or five years old, and do not 
appear on the scene again until they are grown up. 
Then, too, ladies are greatly in the minority, and they 
are accustomed to be made vastly more of than they 
are at home, and the consequence is that the amount 
of envy, hatred, jealousy, and all uncharitableness is 
appalling.” 

“No, no. Doctor, not as bad as that,” the Major re- 
monstrated. 

“Every bit as bad as that,” the Doctor said stoutly. 
“ I am not a woman-hater, far from it ; but I have felt 
sometimes that if John Company, in its beneficence, 
would pass a decree absolutely excluding the importa- 
tion of white women into India, it would be an unmixed 
blessing. ” 

“For shame. Doctor,” Isobel Hannay said, “and to 
think that I should have such a high opinion of you up 
to now.” 

“ I can’t help it, my dear, my experience is that for 
ninety-nine out of every hundred unpleasantnesses that 
take place out here, women are in one way or another 
responsible. They get up sets and cliques, and break 
up what might be otherwise pleasant society into sec- 
tions. Talk about caste among natives, it is nothing 
3 


34 - 


in THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


to the caste among women out here. The wife of a 
civilian of high rank looks down upon the wives of mili- 
tary men. The general’s wife looks down upon a cap- 
tain’s, and so right through from the top to the bottom. 

“ It is not so among the men, or at any rate to a very 
much smaller extent. Of course, some men are pom- 
pous fools, but, as a rule, if two men meet, and both are 
gentlemen, they care nothing as to what their respective 
ranks may be. A man may be a lord or a doctor, a 
millionaire or a struggling barrister, but they meet on 
equal terms in society; but out here it is certainly not 
so among the women, they stand upon their husbands’ 
dignity in a way that would be pitiable if it were not 
exasperating. Of course, there are plenty of good 
women among them, as there are everywhere — women 
whom even India can’t spoil; but what with exclusive- 
ness, and with the amount of admiration and adulation 
they get, and what with the want of occupation for their 
thoughts and minds, it is very hard for them to avoid 
getting spoilt.” 

“Well, I hope I shan’t get spoilt. Doctor, and I hope, 
if you see that I am getting spoilt, you will make a 
point of telling me so at once. ” 

The Doctor grunted. “ Theoretically, people are al- 
ways ready to receive good advice, Miss Hannay ; prac- 
tically, they are always offended by it; however, in 
your case I will risk it, and I am bound to say that 
hitherto you have proved yourself more amenable in 
that way than most young women I have come across.” 

“ And now, if we have done, we will go out on the 
veranda,” the Major said. “I am sure the Doctor 
must be dying for a cheroot. ” 

“ The Doctor has smoked pretty continuously since 
we left Allahabad,” Isobel said. “ He wanted to sit up 
with the driver, but, of course, I would not have that. 

I had got pretty well accustomed to smoke coming out, 
and even if I had not been, I would much rather have 
been almost suffocated than have been in there by my- 
self. I thought a dozen times the vehicle was going to 
upset, and what with the humping and the shouting 
and the cracking of the whip — especially when the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


35 


horses wouldn’t start, which was generally the case at 
first — I should have been frightened out of my life had 
I been alone. It seemed to me that something dread- 
ful was alwaytB going to happen.” 

“ You can take it easy this morning, Isobel,” the Ma- 
jor said when they were comfortably seated in the bam- 
boo lounges in the veranda. “You won’t have any 
callers to-day, as it will be known you travelled all night. 
People will imagine that you want a quiet day before 
you are on show.” 

“ What a horrid expression, uncle!” 

“Well, my dear, it represents the truth. The arrival 
of a fresh lady from England, especially of a spin, 
which is short for spinster or unmarried woman, is an 
event of some importance in an Indian station. Not, 
of cotfrse, so much in a place like this, because this is 
the centre of a large district, but in a small station it 
is an event of the first importance. The men are anx- 
ious to see what a new-comer is like for herself ; the 
worn en to look at her dresses and see the latest fashions 
from home, and also to ascertain whether she is likely 
to turn out a formidable rival. However, to-day you 
can enjoy quiet; to-morrow you must attire yourself in 
your most becoming costume and I will trot you round.” 

“Trot me round, uncle?” 

“Yes, my dear. In India the order of procedure is 
reversed, and new-comers call in the first place upon 
residents.” 

“ What a very unpleasant custom, uncle ; especially 
as some of the residents may not want to know them.” 

“ Well, every one must know every one else in a sta- 
tion, my dear, though they may not wish to be intimate. 
So about half-past one to-morrow we will start.” 

“What, in the heat of the day, uncle?” 

“ Yes, my dear. That is another of the inscrutable 
freaks of Indian fashion. The hours for calling are 
from about half-past twelve to half-past two,. just in the 
hottest hours. I don’t pretend to account for it.” 

“ How many ladies are there in the regiment?” 

“There is the Colonel’s wife, Mrs. Cromarty. She 
has two grown-up red-headed girls,” replied the Doc- 


36 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

tor. “ She is a distant relation — a second cousin — of 
some Scotch lord or other, and, on the strength of that 
and her husband’s colonelcy, gives herself prodigious 
airs. Three of the captains are married. « Mrs. Doolan 
is a merry little Irish woman. You will like her. She 
has two or three children. She is a general favorite in 
the regiment. 

“ Mrs. Rintoul — I suppose she is here still. Major, 
and unchanged? Ah, I thought so. She is a washed- 
out woman, without a spark of energy in her composi- 
tion. She believes that she is a chronic invalid, and 
s^nds for me on an average once a week. But there is 
nothing really the matter with her, if she would but 
only believe it. Mrs. Roberts ” 

“Don’t be ill-natured. Doctor,’’ the Major broke in. 
“Mrs. Roberts, my dear, is a good-looking womafi, and 
a general flirt. I don’t think there is any harm in her 
whatever. Mrs. Prothero, the Adjutant’s wife, has only 
been out here eighteen months and is a pretty little 
woman and in all respects nice. There is only one 
other, Mrs. Scarsdale; she came out six months ago. 
She is a quiet young woman, with, I should say, plenty 
of common sense: I should think you will like her. 
That completes the regimental list.’’ 

“Well, that is not so very formidable. Anyhow, it 
is a comfort that we shall have no one here to-day. ’’ 

“You will have the whole regiment here in a few 
minutes, Isobel, but they will be coming to see the 
Doctor, not you; if it hadn’t been that they knew you 
were under his charge every one would have come 
down to meet him when he arrived. But if you fee' 
tired, as I am sure you must after your journey, ther^ 
is no reason why you shouldn’t go and lie down quietly 
for a few hours.’’ 

“ I will stop here, uncle; it will be much less embar- 
rassing to see them all for the first time when they 
come to see Dr. Wade and I am quite a secondary con- 
sideration, than if they had come specially to call on 
me.’’ 

“Well, I agree with you there, my dear. Ah! here 
come Doolan and Prothero.’’ 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 37 

A light trap drove into the enclosure and drew up in 
front of the veranda and two officers jumped down, 
while the syce who had been standing on a step behind 
ran to the horse’s head. They hailed the Doctor, as he 
stepped out from the veranda, with a shout. 

“ Glad to see you back. Doctor. The regiment has 
not seemed like itself without you.” 

“We have been just pining without you. Doctor,” 
Captain Doolan said, “ and the ladies would have got 
up a deputation to meet you on your arrival only I told 
them that it would be too much for your modesty.” 

“Well, it is a good thing that some one has a little 
of that quality in the regiment, Doolan,” the Doctor 
said, as he shook hands heartily with them both. “ It 
is very little of it that fell to the share of Ireland when 
it was served out.” 

As they dropped the Doctor’s hand the Major said, 
“Now, gentlemen, let me introduce you to my niece.” 
The introductions were made, and the whole party took 
chairs on the veranda. 

“ Do you object to smoking, Miss Hannay; perhaps 
you have not got accustomed to it yet? I see the Doc- 
tor is smoking; but, then, he is a privileged person, 
altogether beyond rule.” 

“ I rather like it in the open air,” Isobel said. “ No 
doubt I shall get accustomed to it in-doors before long.” 

In a few minutes four or five more of the officers ar- 
rived, and Isobel sat an amused listener to the talk; 
taking but little part in it herself, but gathering a good 
deal of information as to the people at the station from 
the answers given to the Doctor’s inquiries. It was 
very much like the conversation on board ship, except 
that the topics of conversation were wider and more 
numerous, and there was a community of interest want- 
ing on board a ship. In half an hour, however, the in- 
creasing warmth and her sleepless night began to tell 
upon her, and her uncle, seeing that she was beginning 
to look fagged, said : “ The best thing that you can do, 
Isobel, is to go in-doors for a bit, and have a good nap. 
At five o’clock I will take you round for a drive and 
show you the sights of Cawnpore. ” 


38 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“I do feel sleepy,” she said, “though it sounds rude 
to say so. ” 

“Not at all,” the Doctor put in; “if any of these 
young fellows had made the journey out from Allaha- 
bad in that wretched gharry, they would have turned 
into bed as soon as they arrived and would not have 
got up till the first mess bugle sounded, and very likely 
would have slept on until next morning. 

“Now,” he went on, when Isobel had disappeared, 

“ we will adjourn with ^ou to the mess-house. That 
young lad)’ would have very small chance of getting to 
sleep with all this racket here. Doolan’s voice alone 
would banish sleep anywhere within a distance of a 
hundred yards.” 

“ I will join you there later. Doctor,” the Major said. 

“ I have got a couple of hours' work in the orderly 
room. Rumzan, don’t let my niece be disturbed, but 
if she wakes and rings the bell, send up a message by 
the woman that I shall not be back until four.” 

The Major walked across to the orderly room, while ' 
the rest, mounting their buggies, drove to the mess- 
house, which was a quarter of a mile away. 

“ I should think Miss Hannay will prove a valuable 
addition to our circle, Doctor,” the Adjutant said. “I 
don’t know why, but I gathered from what the Major 
said that his niece was very young. He spoke of her 
as if she were quite a child.” «• 

“She is a very nice, sensible young woman,” the 
Doctor said, “ clever and bright and, as you can see for 
yourselves, pretty, and yet no nonsense about her. I 
only hope that she won’t get spoilt here; nineteen out 
of twenty young women do get spoilt within six months 
of their arrival in India, but I think she will be one of 
the exceptions.” 

“ I should have liked to have seen the Doctor doing 
chaperon,” Captain Doolan laughed; “he would have 
been a brave man who would have attempted even the 
faintest flirtation with any one under his charge.” 

“That is your opinion, is it, Doolan?” the Doctor 
said sharply. “ I should have thought that even your 
common sense would have told you that any one who 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


39 


has had the misfortune to see as much of womankind 
as I have would have been aware that any endeavor to 
nip a flirtation for which they are inclined would be of 
all others the way to induce them to go in for it head- 
long. You are a married man yourself and ought to 
know that. A woman is a .good deal like a spirited 
horse; let her have her head, and, though she may for 
a time make the pace pretty fast, she will go straight 
and settle down to her collar in time ; whereas if you 
keep a tight curb she will fret and fidget, and as likely 
as not make a bolt for it. I can assure you that my 
duties were of the most nominal description. There 
were the usual number of hollow-pated lads on board, 
who buzzed in their usual feeble way round Miss 
Hannay, and were one after another duly snubbed. 
Miss Hanna)^ has plenty of spirits, and a considerable 
sense of humor, and I think that she enjoyed the 
voyage thoroughly. And now let us talk of something 
else.” 

After an hour’s chat the Doctor started on his round 
of calls upon the ladies; the Major had not come in 
from the orderly room, and after the Doctor left Isobel 
Hannay was again the topic of conversation. 

“ She is out and out the prettiest girl in the station,” 
the Adjutant said to some of the officers who had not 
seen her. “ She will make quite a sensation ; and there 
are five or six ladies in the station, whose names I need 
hardly mention, who will not be very pleased at her 
coming. She is thoroughly in good form, too; nothing 
in the slightest degree fast or noisy about her. She is 
quiet and self-possessed. I fancy she would be able to 
hold her own against any of them. Clever? I should 
say ‘certainly;’ but, of course, that is from her face , 
rather than from anything she said. I expect half the j 
unmarried men in the station will be going wild over 
her. You need not look so interested, Wilson. The 
matter is of no more personal interest to you than if I 
were describing a new comet. Nothing les^than a big 
civilian is likely to carry off such a prize, so I warn 
you beforehand you had better not be losing your heart 
to her.” 


40 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ Well, you know, Prothero, subalterns do manage to 
get wives sometimes. ” 

There was a laugh. 

“ That is true enough, Wilson ; but, then, you see, I 
married at home; besides, I am adjutant, which sounds 
a lot better than subaltern.” 

“That may go for a good deal in the regiment,” 
Wilson retorted, “but I doubt if there are many wo- 
men that know the difference between an adjutant and 
a quartermaster. They know about colonels, majors, 
captains, and even subalterns; but if you were to say 
that you were an adjutant they would be simply mys- 
tified, though they might understand if you said band- 
master. But I fancy sergeant-major would sound ever 
vSo much more imposing. ” 

“ Wilson, if you are disrespectful I shall discover to- 
morrow, on parade, that No. i Company wants a couple 
of hours' extra drill badly, and then you will feel how 
grievous a mistake it is to cheek an adjutant. ” 

The report of those who had called at the Major's 
was so favorable that curiosity was quite roused as to 
the new-comer, and when the Major drove round with 
her the next day every one was at home, and the ver- 
dict on the part of the ladies was generally favorable, 
but was by no means so unqualified as that of the 
gentlemen. 

Mrs. Cromarty admitted that she was nice-looking ; 
but was critical as to her carriage and manner. She 
would be admired by young officers no doubt, but there- 
was too much life and animation about her, and al- 
though she would not exactly say that she stooped, she 
was likely to do so in time. “ She will be nothing re- 
markable when her freshness has worn off a little,” to 
which opinion the Misses Cromarty thoroughly assented. 
They had never been accused of stooping, and, indeed, 
were almost painfully upright, and were certainly not 
particularly admired by subalterns. 

Mrs. Doolan was charmed with her, and told her she 
hoped that they would be great friends. 

“This is a very pleasant life out here, my dear,” she 
said, “ if one does but take it in the right way. There 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


41 


is a great deal of tittle-tattle in the Indian stations and 
some quarrelling; but, you know, it takes two to make 
a quarrel, and I make it a point never to quarrel with 
any one. It is too hot for it. Then you see I have the 
advantage of being Irish, and for some reason or other 
that I don’t understand we can say pretty nearly what 
we like. People don’t take us seriously, you know; so 
I keep in with them all.” 

Mrs. Rintoul received her visitor on the sofa. “ It is 
quite refreshing to see a face straight from England, 
Miss Hannay. I only hope that you may keep your 
bright color and healthy looks. Some people do. Not 
their color, but their health. Unfortunately I am not 
one of them. I do not know what it is to have a day’s 
health. The climate completely oppresses me, and I 
am fit for nothing. You would hardly believe that I 
was as strong and healthy as you are when I first came 
out. You came out with Dr. Wade — a clever man. I 
have a very high opinion of his talent, but my case is 
beyond him. It is a sad annoyance to him that it is so, 
and he is continually trying to make me believe that 
there is nothing the matter with me, as if my looks did 
not speak for themselves. ” 

Mrs. Rintoul afterward told her husband she could 
hardly say that she liked Miss Hannay. “ She is dis- 
tressingly brisk and healthy, and I should say, my dear, 
not of a sympathetic nature, which is always a pity in 
a young woman. ” 

After this somewhat depressing visit the call upon 
Mrs. Roberts was a refreshing one. She received her 
very cordially. 

“I like you. Miss Hannay,” she said, when after a 
quarter of an hour’s lively talk the Major and his niece 
got up to go. “ I always say what I think, and it is 
very good-natured of me to say so, for I don’t disguise 
from myself that you will put my nose out of joint. ” 

“I don’t want to put any one’s nose out of joint,” 
Isobel laughed. 

“You will do it, whether you want to or not,” Mrs. 
Roberts said; “ my husband as much as told me so, last 
night, and I was prepared not to like you, but I see that 


42 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

I shall not be able to help doing so. Major Hanna)’, 
you have dealt me a heavy blow, but I forgive you.” 

When the round of visits was finished, the Major 
said, “Well, Isobel, what do you think of the ladies of 
the regiment?” 

“I think they are all very nice, uncle. I fancy I 
shall like Mrs. Doolan and Mrs. Scarsdale best; I 
won’t give any opinion yet about Mrs. Cromarty.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

The life of Isobel Hannay had not, up to the time 
when she left England to join her uncle, been a very 
bright one. At the death of her father her mother had 
been left with an income that enabled her to live, as 
she said, genteelly at Brighton. She had three chil- 
dren: the eldest a girl of twelve; Isobel, who was 
nine; and a boy of six, who was sadly deformed, the 
result of a fall from the arms of a careless nurse when 
he was an infant. It was at that time that Major Han- 
nay had come home on leave, having been left trustee 
and executor, had seen to all the money arrangements, 
and had established his brother’s widow at Brighton. 
The work had not been altogether pleasant, for Mrs. 
Hannay was a selfish and querulous woman, very dif- 
ficult to satisfy even in little matters, and with a chronic 
suspicion that every one with whom she came in contact 
was trying to get the best of her. Her eldest girl was 
likely. Captain Hannay thought, to take after her 
mother, whose pet she was, while Isobel took after her 
father. He had suggested that both should be sent to 
school, but Mrs. Hannay would not hear of parting from 
Helena, but was willing enough that Isobel should be 
sent to a boarding school at her uncle’s expense. 

As the years went by, Helena grew up, as Mrs. Han- 
nay proudly said, the image of what she herself had 
been at her age — tall and fair, indolent and selfish, fond 
of dress and gayety, discontented because their means 
would not permit them to indulge in either to the full- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


43 


est extent. There was nothing in common between 
her and her sister, who, when at home for the holidays, 
spent her time almost entirely with her brother, who 
received but slight attention from any one else, his de- 
formity being considered as a personal injury and af- 
fliction by his mother and elder sister. 

“You could not care less for him,” Isobel once said 
in a fit of passion, “if he were a dog. I don’t think 
)"ou notice him more, not one bit. He wanders about 
the house without anybody to give a thought to him. 
I call it cruel, downright cruel.” 

“You are a wicked girl, Isobel,” her mother said an- 
grily, “a wicked, violent girl, and I don’t know what 
will become of you. It is abominable of you to talk so 
even if you are wicked enough to get into a passion. 
What can we do for him that we don’t do? What is 
the use of talking to him when he nevbr pays attention 
to what we say and is always moping? I am sure we 
get everything that we think will please him, and he 
goes out for a walk with us every day ; what could pos- 
sibly be done more for him?” 

“A great deal more might be done for him,” Isobel 
burst out. “You might love him, and that would be 
everything to him. I don’t believe you and Helena 
love him, not one bit, not one tiny scrap. ” 

“ Go up to your room, Isobel, and remain there for 
the rest of the day. You are a very bad girl. I shall 
write to Miss Virtue about you ; there must be some- 
thing very wrong in her management of you or you 
would never be so passionate and insolent as you are.” 

But Isobel had not stopped to hear the last part of the 
sentence, the door had slammed behind her. She was 
not many minutes alone upstairs, for Robert soon fol- 
lowed her up, for when she was at home he rarely left 
her side, watching her every look and gesture with 
eyes as loving as those of a dog and happy to sit on the 
ground beside her, with his head leaning against her, 
for hours together. 

Mrs. Hannay kept her word and wrote to Miss Vir- 
tue, and the evening after she returned to school Isobel 
was summoned to her room. 


44 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ I am sorry to say, I have a very bad account of you 
from your mother. She says you are a passionate and 
wicked girl. How is it, dear? you are not passionate 
here, and I certainly do not think you are wicked. " 

“ I can’t help it when I am at home. Miss Virtue. I 
am sure I try to be good, but they won’t let me. They 
don’t like me because I can’t be always tidy and what 
they call prettily behaved, and because I hate walking 
on the parade and being stuck-up and unnatural, and 
they don’t like me because I am not pretty, and because 
I am thin and don’t look, as mamma says, a credit to 
her ; but it is not that so much as because of Robert. 
You know he is deformed. Miss Virtue, and they don’t 
care for him, and he has no one to love him but me, 
and it makes me mad to see him treated so. That is 
what it was she wrote about. I told her they treat him 
like a dog, and so they do,” and she burst into tears. 

“But that was very naughty, Isobel,” Miss Virtue 
said gravely. “You are only eleven years old, and 
too young to be a judge of these matters, and even if it 
were as you say it is not for a child to speak so to her 
mother.” 

“ I know that, Miss Virtue, but how can I help it? I 
could cry out with pain when I saw Robert looking 
from one to the other just for a kind word, and he never 
gets it. It is no use. Miss Virtue; if it was not for him 
I would much rather never go home at all, but stop here 
through the holidays, only what would he do if I didn’t 
go home? I am the only pleasure he has. When I am 
there he will sit for hours on my knee, and lay his head 
on my shoulder, and stroke my face. It makes me feel 
as if my heart would break.” 

“Well, my dear,” Miss Virtue said, somewhat puz- 
zled, “ it is sad, if it is as you say, but that does not ex- 
cuse your being disrespectful to your mother. It is not 
for you to judge her.” 

“ But cannot something be done for Robert, Miss 
Virtue? Surely they must do something for children 
like him.” 

“ There are people, my dear, who take a few afflicted 
children and give them special training. Children of 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


45 


that kind have sometimes shown a great deal of un- 
usual talent, and, if so, it is cultivated, and they arc 
put in a way of earning 'a livelihood.” 

“Are there?” Isobel exclaimed, with eager eyes. 
“Then I know what I will do, I will write to Uncle 
Tom — he is our guardian. I know if I were to speak 
to mamma about Robert going to school it would be of 
no use; but if uncle writes, I dare say it would be done, 
I am sure she and Helena would be glad enough. I 
don’t suppose she ever thought of it. It would be a 
relief to them to get him out of their sight. ” 

Miss Virtue shook her head. “ You must not talk so, 
Isobel. It is not right or dutiful, and you are a great 
deal too young to judge your elders, even if they were 
not related to you; and, pray, if you write to your 
uncle do not write in that spirit ; it would shock him 
greatly, and he would form a very bad opinion of you.” 

And so Isobel wrote. She was in the habit of writ- 
ing once every half-year to her uncle, who had told her 
that he wished her to do so, and that people out abroad 
had great pleasure in letters from England. Hitherto 
she had only written about her school life, and this let- 
ter caused her a great deal of trouble. 

It answered its purpose. Captain Hannay had no 
liking either for his sister-in-law or his eldest niece, 
and had, when he was with them, been struck with the 
neglect with which the little boy was treated. Isobel 
had taken great pains not to say anything that would 
show she considered that Robert was harshly treated ; 
but had simply said that she heard there were schools 
where little boys like him cpuld be taught, and that it 
would be such a great thing for him, as it was very dull 
for him having nothing to do all day; but Captain 
Hannay read through the lines, and felt that it was a 
protest against her brother’‘s treatment, and that she 
would not have written to him had she not felt that so 
only would anything be done for him. 

Accordingly he wrote home to his sister-in-law, say- 
ing he thought it was quite time now that the boy 
should be placed with some gentleman who took a few 
lads unfitted for the rough life of an ordinary school. 


46 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


He sho'dld take the charges upon himself, and had 
written to his agent in London to find out such an 
establishment, to make arrangements for Robert to go 
there, and to send down one of his clerks to take charge 
of him on the joume)*. 

He also wrote to Isobel, telling her what he had 
done, and blaming himself for not having thought of it 
before, winding up by saying: “ I have not mentioned 
to your mother that I heard from you about it — that is 
a little secret just as well to keep to ourselves. ” 

The next five years were much happier to Isobel, for 
the thought of her brother at home without her had 
before been constantly on her mind. It was a delight 
to her now to go home and to see the steady improve- 
ment that took place in Robert. He was brighter in 
every respect, and expressed himself as most happy 
where he was. 

As years went on, he grew into a bright and intelli- 
gent boy, though his health was by no means good, 
and he looked frail and delicate. He was as passion- 
ately attached to her as ever, and during the holidays 
they were never separated ; they stood quite alone, their 
mother and sister interesting themselves but little in 
their doings, and they were allowed to take long walks 
together, and to sit in a room by themselves, where they 
talked, drew, painted, and read. 

Mrs. Hannay disapproved of Isobel as much as ever. 
“She is a most headstrong girl,” she would lament to 
her friends, “and is really quite beyond my control. 
I do not at all approve of the school she is at, but un- 
fortunately my brother-in-law, who is her guardian, has, 
under the will of my poor husband, absolute control in 
the matter. I am sure poor John never intended that 
he should be able to over-ride my wishes : but though 
I have written to him several times about it he says that 
he sees no valid reason for any change, and that from 
Isobel’s letters to him she seems very happy there, and 
to be getting on well. She is so very unlike dear Hel- 
ena, and even when at home I see but little of her; she 
is completely wrapped up in her unfortunate brother. 
Of course I don't blame her for that, but it is not nat- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


47 


Ural that a girl of her age should care nothing for pleas- 
ures or going out or the things natural to young people. 
Yes, she is certainly improving in appearance, and if 
she would but take some little pains about her dress 
would be really very presentable.” 

But her mother’s indifference disturbed Isobel but 
little. She was perfectly happy with her brother when 
at home, and very happy at school, where she was a 
general favorite. She was impulsive, high-spirited, 
and occasionally gave Miss Virtue some trouble, but her 
disposition was frank and generous, there was not a 
tinge of selfishness in her disposition, and while she 
was greatly liked by girls of her own age, she was quite 
adored by little ones. 

The future that she always pictured to herself was a 
little cottage with a bright garden in the suburbs of 
London, where she and Robert could live together — she 
would go out as a daily governess : Robert, who was 
learning to play the organ, would, she hoped, get a 
post as organist. Not, of course, for the sake of the 
salary, for her earnings and the interest of the thousand 
pounds, that would be hers when she came of age, 
would be sufficient for them both, but as an amusement 
for him and to give him a sense of independence. 

But when she was just seventeen, and was looking 
forward to the time when she would begin to carry her 
plan into effect, a terrible blow came. She heard 
from her mother that Robert was dead. 

“It is a sad blow for us all,” Mrs. Hannay wrote, 

“ but, as you know, he has never been strong; still, we 
had no idea that anything serious ailed him until we 
heard a fortnight since he was suffering from a violent 
cough, and had lost strength rapidly. A week later 
we heard that the doctors were of opinion it was a case 
of sudden consumption, and that the end was rapidly 
approaching. I went up to town to see him, and found 
him even worse than I expected, and was in no way 
surprised when this morning I received a letter saying 
that he had gone. Great as is the blow one cannot but 
feel that, terribly afflicted as he was, his death is, as far 
as he is concerned, a happy release. I trust you will 


48 . IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

now abandon your wild scheme of teaching and come 
home.” 

But home was less home than ever to Isobel now, 
and she remained another six months at school, when 
she received an important letter from her uncle: 

My dear Isobel : — When you first wrote to me and told 
me that what you were most looking forward to was to 
make a home for your brother, I own that it was a blow to 
me, for I had long had plans of my own about you ; how- 
ever, I thought your desire to help your brother was so 
natural, and would give you such happiness in carrying it 
into effect, that I at once fell in with it and put aside m}^ 
own plan. But the case is altered, now, and I can see no 
reason why I cannot have my own way. When I was in 
England I made up my mind that unless I married, which 
was a most improbable contingency, I would, when you 
were old enough, have you out to keep house for me. I 
foresaw, even then, that your brother might prove an ob- 
stacle to this plan. Even in the short time I was with you 
it was easy enough to see that the charge of him would fall 
on your shoulders, and that it would be a labor of love to 
you. 

If he lived, then, I felt you would not leave him, and 
that you would be right in not doing so, but even then it 
seemed likely to me that he would not grow up to man- 
hood. From time to time I have been in correspondence 
with the clergyman he was with, and learned that the doc- 
tor who attended them thought but poorly of him. I had 
him taken to two first-class physicians in London; they 
pronounced him to be constitutionally weak, and said that 
beyond strengthening medicines and that sort of thing, 
they could do nothing for him. 

Therefore, dear, it was no surprise to me when I received ' 
first your mother’s letter with the news, and then your own 
written a few days later. When I answered that letter I 
thought it as well not to say anything of my plan, but by 
the time you receive this it will be six months since your 
great loss, and you will be able to look at it in a fairer 
light than you could have done then, and I do hope you 
will agree to come out to me. Life here has its advantages 
and disadvantages, and I think that, especially for young 
people, it is a pleasant one. 

I am getting very tired of a bachelor’s establishment, 
and it will be a very great pleasure indeed to have you 


IN THE t)AYS OE THE MUTINY. 


49 

here. Ever since I was in England I made up my mind to 
'adopt you as my own child. You were very like my 
brother John, and your letters and all I have heard of you 
show that you have grown up just as he would have wished 
you to do. Your sister Helena is ‘your mother’s child, and 
without wishing to hurt your feelings, your mother and I 
have nothing in common. I regard you as the only rela- 
tion I have in the world, and whether you come out or 
whether you do not, whatever I leave behind me will be 
yours. I do hope that you will at any rate come out for a 
time. However, if you don’t like the life here you can fall 
back upon your own plan. 

If you decide to come, write to my agent. I enclose 
envelope addressed to him. Tell him when you can be 
ready. He will put you in the way of the people you had 
better go to for your outfit, will pay all bills, take your 
passage and so on. 

Whatever you do, do not stint yourself. The people 
you go to will know a great deal better than you can do 
what is necessary for a lady out here. All you will have 
to do will be to get measured and to give her an idea of 
your likes and fancies as to colors and so on. She will 
have instructions from my agent to furnish you with a 
complete outfit and will know exactly how many dozens 
of everything are required. 

I can see no reason why you should not start within a 
month after the receipt of this letter, and I shall look most 
anxiously for a letter from you saying that you will come, 
and that you will start by a sailing ship in a month at 
latest from the date of your writing. 

Isobel did not hesitate, as her faith in her uncle was 
unbounded. Next to her meetings with her brother, 
his letters had been her greatest pleasures. He had 
always taken her part; it was he who, at her request, 
had Robert placed at school, and he had kept her at 
Miss Virtue’s in spite of her mother’s complaints. At 
home she had never felt comfortable; it had always 
seemed to her that she was in the way; her mother dis- 
approved of her; while from Helena she had never had 
a sisterly word. To go out to India to see the wonders 
she had read of, and to be her uncle’s companion, 
seemed a perfectly delightful prospect. Her answer to 
her uncle was sent off the day after she received his 
4 


50 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

letter, and that day month she stepped on board an In- 
diaman in the London Docks. 

The intervening time had not been a pleasant one ; 
Mrs. Hannay had heard from the Major of his wishes 
and intentions regarding Isobel, and she was greatly 
displeased thereat. 

“ Why should he have chosen you instead of Helena?” 
she said angrily to Isobel, on the first day of her arrival 
home. 

“ I suppose because he thought I should suit him 
better, mamma. I really don’t see why you should be 
upset about it ; I don’t suppose Helena would have liked 
to go, and I am sure you would not have liked to have 
had me with you instead of her. I should have thought 
you would have been pleased I was off your hands alto- 
gether. It doesn’t seem tome that you have ever been 
really glad to have me about you.” 

“That has been entirely your own fault,” Mrs. Han- 
nay said. “ You have always been headstrong and de- 
termined to go your own way, you have never been fit 
to be seen when any one came, you have thwarted me 
in every way. ” 

“ I am very sorry, mamma. I think I might have 
been better if you had had a little more patience with 
me, but even now if you really wish me to stay at home 
I will do so. I can write again to uncle and tell him 
that I have changed my mind.” 

“Certainly not,” Mrs. Hannay said. “Naturally I 
should wish to have my children with me, but I doubt 
whether your being here would be for the happiness of 
any of us, and besides I do not wish your uncle’s money 
to go out of the family, he might take it into his head 
to leave it to a hospital for black women. Still it 
would have been only right and proper that he should 
at any rate have given Helena the first choice. As for 
your instant acceptance of his offer, without even con- 
sulting me, nothing can surprise me in that way after 
your general conduct toward me. ” 

However, although Mrs. Hannay declined to take 
any interest in Isobel’s preparations, and continued to 
behave as an injured person, neither she nor Helena 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 5 1 

were sorry at heart for the arrangement that had been 
made. They objected very strongly to Isobel’s plans 
for going out as a governess; but upon the other hand 
her presence at home would in many ways have been 
an inconvenience. Two can make a better appear- 
ance on a fixed income than three can, and her presence 
at home would have necessitated many small econo- 
mies. She was, too, a disturbing element; the others 
understood each other perfectly, and both felt that they 
in no way understood Isobel. Altogether, it was much 
better that she should go. 

As to the heirship, Captain Hannayhad spoken freely 
as to his monetary affairs when he had been in England 
after his brother’s death. 

“My pay is amply sufficient for all my wants," he 
said; “but everything is expensive out there, and I 
have had no occasion to save. I have a few hundred 
pounds laid by, so that if I break down, and am ordered 
to Europe any time on sick leave, I can live comfort- 
ably for that time; but, beyond that, there has been no 
reason why I should lay by. I am not likely ever to 
marry, and when I have served my full time my pen- 
sion will be ample for my wants in England; but I 
shall do my best to help if help is necessary. Fortu- 
nately the interest of the thousand apiece the girls 
were left by my aunt will help your income. When it 
is necessary to do anything for Robert, poor lad, I will 
take that expense on myself. " 

“ I thought all Indians came home with lots of 
money," Mrs. Hannay said complainingly. 

“ Not the military. We do the fighting, and get 
fairly paid for it. The civilians get five times as 
highly paid, and run no risks whatever. Why it should 
be so no one has ever attempted to explain ; but there 
it is, sister." 

Mrs. Hannay, therefore, although she complained of 
the partiality shown to Isobel, was well aware that the 
Major’s savings could amount to no very great sum ; 
although, in nine years, with higher rank and better 
pay, he might have added a good bit to the little store 
of which he had spoken to her. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


52 


When, a week before the vessel sailed, Doctor Wade 
appeared with a letter he had received from the Major, 
asking him to take charge of Isobel on the voyage, Mrs. 
Hannay conceived a violent objection to him. He had, 
in fact, been by no means pleased with the commission, 
and had arrived in an unusually aggressive and snap- 
pish humor. He cut short Mrs. Hannay’s well-turned 
sentences ruthlessly, and aggrieved her by remarking 
on Helena’s want of color, and recommending plenty 
of walking exercise taken at a brisk pace, and more 
ease and comfort in the matter of dress. 

“Your daughter’s lungs have no room to play, 
madam,” he said, “her heart is compressed. No one 
can expect to be healthy under such circumstances.” 

“ I have my own medical attendant. Dr. Wade,” Mrs. 
Hannay said decidedly. 

“ No doubt, madam, no doubt. All I can say is, if 
his recommendations are not the same as mine he must 
be a downright fool. Very well, Miss Hannay, I think 
we understajid each other ; I shall be on board by eleven 
o’clock and shall keep a sharp lookout for you. Don’t 
be later than twelve ; she will warp out of the dock by 
one at latest, and if you miss that your only plan will 
be to take the train down to Tilbury, and hire a boat 
there.” 

“ I shall be in time, sir,” Isobel said. 

“ Well, I hope you will, but my experience of women 
is pretty extensive, and I have scarcely met one who 
could be relied upon to keep an appointment punctuall^^ 
Don’t laden yourself more than you can help with little 
bags, and parcels, and bundles of all kinds. I expect 
you will be three or four in a cabin, and you will find 
that there is no room for litter. Take the things you 
will require at first in one or two flat trunks which will 
stow under your berth ; once a week or so if the weather 
is fine you will be able to get at your things in the hold. 
Do try if possible to pack all the things that you are 
likely to want to get at during the voyage in one trunk, 
and have a star or any mark you like painted on that 
trunk with your name; then there will be no occasion 
for the sailors to haul twenty boxes upon deck. Be 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


53 


sure you send all your trunks on board, except those 
you want in your cabin, two days before she sails. Do 
you think you can remember all that?” 

“I think so. Dr. Wade.” 

“Very well then, I’m off,” and the Doctor shook hands 
with Isobel, nodded to Mrs. Hannay and Helena, and 
hurried away. 

“What a perfectly detestable little man! ” Mrs. Han- 
nay exclaimed, as the door closed over him. “Your 
uncle must have been out of his senses to select such 
an odious person to look after you on the voyage. I 
really pity you, Isobel. ” 

“ I have no doubt he is very much nicer than he 
seems, mamma. Uncle said, you know, in his letter 
last week, that he had written to Dr. Wade to look 
after me, if, as he thought probable, he might be com- 
ing out in the same ship. He said that he was a little 
brusque in his manner, but that he was a general fa- 
vorite, and one of the kindest-hearted of men.” 

“ A little brusque,” Mrs. Hannay repeated scornfully. 
“ If he is only considered a little brusque in India all I 
can say is, society must be in a lamentable state out 
there. ” 

“ Uncle says he is a great shikari, and has probably 
killed more tigers than any man in India.” 

“ I really don’t see that that is any recommendation 
whatever, Isobel, although it might be if you were 
likely to encounter tigers on board ship. However, I 
am not surprised that your opinion differs from mine, 
we very seldom see matters in the same light. I only 
hope you may be right and I may be wrong, for other- 
wise the journey is not likely to be a very pleasant one 
for you ; personally, I would almost as soon have a 
Bengal tiger loose about the ship than such a very rude, 
unmannerly person as Dr. Wade.” 

Mrs. Hannay and Helena accompanied Isobel to the 
Docks, and went on board ship with her. 

The Doctor received them at the gangway. He was 
in a better temper, for the fact that he was on the point 
of starting for India again had put him in high spirits. 
He escorted the party below and saw that they got 


54 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


lunch, showed Isobel which was her cabin, introduced 
her to two or three ladies of his acquaintance, and made 
himself so generally pleasant that even Mrs. Hannay 
was mollified. 

As soon as luncheon was over the bell was rung, and 
the partings were hurriedly got through, as the pilot 
announced that the tide was slackening nearly half an 
hour before its time, and that it was necessary to get 
the ship out of dock at once. 

“Now, Miss Hanna}^ if you will take my advice,” 
the Doctor said, as soon as the ship was fairly in the 
stream, “ you will go below, get out all the things you 
will want from your boxes, and get matters tidy and 
comfortable. In the first place it will do you good to 
be busy, and in the second place there is nothing like 
getting everything ship-shape in the cabin the very 
first thing after starting ; then you are ready for rough 
weather or anything else that may occur. I have got 
you a chair. I thought that very likely you would not 
think of it, and a passenger without a chair of her own 
is a most forlorn creature, I can tell you. When you 
have done down below, you will find me somewhere 
aft ; if you should not do so, look out for a chair with 
your own name on it and take possession of it, but I 
think you are sure to see me.” 

Before they had been a fortnight at sea, Isobel came 
to like the Doctor thoroughly. He knew many of the 
passengers on board the Byculla, and she had soon 
many acquaintances. She was amused at the descrip- 
tion that the Doctor gave her of some of the people to 
whom he introduced her. 

“ I am going to introduce you to that woman in the 
severely plain cloak and ugly bonnet. She is the wdfe 
of the Resident of Rajputana. I knew her when her 
husband was a Collector.” 

“ A Collector, Dr. Wade? What did he collect?” 

“ Well, my dear, he didn’t collect taxes or water rates 
or anything of that sort. A Collector is a civil func- 
tionary and frequently an important one. I used to 
attend her at one time when we were in cantonments 
at Bhurtporo, where her husband was stationed at that 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 55 

time. I pulled a tooth out for her once, and she hol- 
loaed louder than any woman I ever heard. I don’t 
mean to say, my dear, that women holloa any louder 
than men ; on the contrar}^ they bear pain a good deal 
better, but she was an exception. She was twelve 
years younger then and used to dress a good deal more 
than she does now. That cloak and bonnet are meant 
to convey to the rest of the passengers the fact that 
there is no occasion whatever for a person of her im- 
portance to attend to such petty matters as dress. 

“She never mentions her husband’s name without 
saying, ‘My husband, the Resident, ’ but for all that she 
is a kind-hearted woman ; a very kind-hearted woman. 
I pulled a child of hers through who was down with 
fever at Bhurtpore ; he had a very close shave of it, and 
she has never forgotten it. She greeted me when she 
came on board almost with tears in her eyes at the 
thought of that time. I told her I had a young lady 
under my charge, and she said that she would be very 
pleased to do anything she could for you. She is a 
stanch friend is Mrs. Resident, and you will find her 
useful before you get to the end of the voyage.’’ 

The lady received Isobel with genuine kindness, and 
took her very much under her wing during the voyage, 
and Isobel received no small advantage from her advice 
and protection. 

Her own good sense, however, and the earnest life 
she had led at school and with her mother at home, 
would have sufficed her even without this guardianship 
and that of the Doctor. There was a straightforward 
frankness about her that kept men from talking non- 
sense to her. A compliment she simply laughed at, 
an attempt at flattery made her angry, and the Doctor 
afterward declared to her uncle he would not have be- 
lieved that the guardianship of a girl upon the long 
Indian voyage could possibly have caused him so little 
trouble and annoyance. 

“ When I read your letter. Major, my hair stood on 
end, and if my leave had not been up I should have 
cancelled my passage and come by the next ship , and 
indeed, when I went down to see her, I had still by no 


56 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

means made up my mind as to whether I would not 
take my chance of getting out in time by the next 
vessel. However, I liked her appearance, and, as I 
have said, it turned out excellently, and I should not 
mind making another voyage in charge of her.” 


CHAPTER V. 

Two days after his arrival at Cawnpore, Doctor 
Wade moved into quarters of his own. 

“ I like Doctor Wade very much indeed, you know, 
uncle, still I am glad to have you all to myself and to 
settle down into regular ways. ” 

“Yes, we have got to learn to know each other, 
Isobel.” 

“ Do you think so, uncle? Why, it seems to me that I 
know all about you, just the' same as if we had always 
been together, and I am sure I always told you all 
about myself, even when I was bad at school and got 
into scrapes, because you said particularly that you 
liked me to tell you everything and did not want to 
know only the good side of me. ” 

“ Yes, that is so, my dear, and no doubt I have a fair 
idea as to what are your strong points and what are 
your weak ones, but neither one nor the other affect 
greatly a person’s ordinary every-day character. It is 
the little things, the trifles, the way of talking, the way 
of listening, the amount of sympathy shown, and so on, 
that make a man or woman popular. People do not 
ask whether he or she may be morally sleeping vol- 
canoes, who, if fairly roused, might slay a rival or burn a 
city, they simply look at the surface; is a man or a wo- 
man pleasant, agreeable, easily pleased, ready to take a 
share in making things go, to show a certain amount of 
sympathy in other people’s pleasures or troubles — in 
fact, to form a pleasant pnit of the society of a station? 

“ So in the house you might be the most angelic 
temper in the world, but if you wore creaky boots, had 
a habit of slamming doors, little tricks of giggling or 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


57 


fidgeting with your hands or feet, you would be an un- 
pleasant companion, for you would be constantly ir- 
ritating one in small matters. Of course it is just the 
same thing with your. opinion of me. You have an 
idea that I am a good enough sort of fellow, because I 
have done my best to enable you to carry out your 
plans and wishes, but that has nothing to do at all with 
my character as a man to live with. Till we saw each 
other, when you got out of the gharry, we really knew 
nothing whatever of each other. ” 

Isobel shook her head decidedly. 

“ Nothing will persuade me that I didn’t know every- 
thing about you, uncle. You are just exactly what I 
knew you would be, in look and voice, in manner and 
ways and everything. Of course, it is partly from what 
I remember, but I really did not see a great deal of you 
in those days; it is from your letters, I think, entirely, 
that I knew all about you, and exactly what you were. 
Do you mean to say that I am not just what you thought 
I should be?” 

“ Well, not so clearly as all that, Isobel. Of course 
you were only a little child when I saw you, and except 
that you had big brown eyes, and long eyelashes, I con- 
fess that it struck me that you were rather a plain little 
thing, and I do not think that your mother’s letters 
since conveyed to my mind the fact that there had been 
any material change since. Therefore I own that you 
are quite different from what I had expected to find 
you. I had expected to find you, I think, rather stumpy 
in figure and square in build, with a very determined 
and business-like manner.” 

“ Nonsense, uncle, you could not have expected that.” 

“ Well, my dear, I did, and you see I find I was ut- 
terly wrong.” 

“ But you are not discontented, uncle?” Isobel asked 
with a smile. 

“ No, my dear, but perhaps not quite so contented as 
you may think I ought to be.” 

“Why is that, uncle?” 

“ Well, my dear, if you had been what I had pictured 
you, I might have had you four or five years to myself. 


58 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Possibly you might even have gone home with me, to 
keep house for me in England, when I retire. As it is 
now, I give myself six months at the outside.” 

“What nonsense, uncle! You don’t suppose I am 
going to fall in love with the first man who presents 
himself. Why, every one says the sea voyage is a most 
trying time, and you see I came through that quite 
scathless. Besides, uncle,” and she laughed, “there is 
safety in multitude, and I think that a girl would be 
far more likely to fall in love in some country place 
where she only saw one or two men, than where there 
are numbers of them. Besides, it seems to me that in 
India a girl cannot feel that she is chosen, as it were, 
from among other girls as she would do at home. 
There are so few girls and so many men here, there 
must be a sort of feeling that you are only appreciated 
because there is nothing better to be had. 

“ But of course, uncle, you can understand that the 
idea of love-making and marrying never entered my 
head at all, until I went on board a ship. As you know, 
I always used to think that Robert and I would live to- 
gether, and I am quite sure that I should never have 
left him if he had lived. If I had stopped in England 
I should have done the work I had trained myself to 
do, and it might have been years and years, and per- 
haps never, before any one might have taken a fancy to 
me or I to him. It seems strange, and I really don’t 
think pleasant, uncle, for every one to take it for granted 
that because a girl comes out to India she is a candi- 
date for marriage. I think it is degrading, uncle.” 

“ The Doctor was telling me yesterday that you had 
some idea of that sort,” the Major said, with a slight 
smile, “ and I think girls often start with that sort of 
idea. But it is like looking on at a game. You don’t 
feel interested in it until you begin to play at it. Well, 
the longer you entertain those ideas the better I shall 
be pleased, Isobel. I only hope that you may long re- 
main of the same mind, and that when your time does 
come your choice will be a wise one.” 

There could be no doubt that the Major’s niece was 
^ great success in the regiment, Richards and Wilson, 


IN t;he days of the mutiny. 


59 


two lads who had joined six months before, succumbed 
at once, and mutual animosity succeeded the close 
friendship they had hitherto entertained for each other. 
Travers, the senior Captain, a man who had hitherto 
been noted for his indifference to the charms of female 
society, went so far as to admit that Miss Hannay was 
a very nice, unaffected girl. Mrs. Doolan was quite 
enthusiastic about her. 

“It is very lucky, Jim,” she- said to her husband, 
“ that you were a sober and respected married man be- 
fore she came out, and that. I am installed here as your 
lawful and wedded wife instead of being at Bally crogin 
with only an engagement ring on my finger. I know 
your susceptible nature — you would have fallen in love 
with her, and she would not have had you, and we 
should both of us have been miserable.” 

“ How do you know she wouldn’t have had me, 
Norah?” 

“ Because, my dear, she will be able to pick and 
choose just where she likes, and though no one recog- 
nizes your virtues more than I do, a company in an 
Indian regiment is hardly as attractive as a Residency 
or Lieutenant-Governorship. But seriously she is a 
dear girl, and as yet does not seem to have the least 
idea how pretty she is. How cordially some of them 
will hate her! I anticipate great fun in looking on. I 
am out of all that sort of thing myself.” 

“ That is news to me, Norah. I think you are just as 
fond of a quiet flirtation as you used to be.” 

“Just of a very little one, Jim; fortunately not more. 
vSo I can look on complacently; but even I have suf- 
fered. Why, for weeks not a day has passed-without 
young Richards dropping in for a chat, and when he 
came in yesterday he could talk about nothing but Miss 
Hannay, until I shut him up by telling him it was ex- 
tremely bad form to talk to one lady about another. 
The boy colored up till I almost laughed in his face; 
in fact, I believe I did laugh.” 

“That I will warrant you did, Norah.” 

“ I could not help it, especially when he assured me 
he W4S perfectly serious about Miss Hannay,” 


6o 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“You did not encourage him, I hope, Norah,” 

“ No, I told him the Colonel set his face against mar- 
ried subalterns, and that he would injure himself seri- 
ously in his profession if he were to think of such a 
thing, and that as I knew he had nothing but his pay, 
that would be fatal to him. “ 

Captain Doolan went off into a burst of laughter. 

“And he took it all in, Norah? He did not see that 
you were humbugging him altogether?” 

“ Not a bit of it. They are very amusing, these boys, 
Jim. I was really quite sorry for Richards, but I told 
him he would get over it in time, for as far as I could 
learn you had been just as bad thirty-three times be- 
fore I finally took pity on you, and that I only did it 
then because you were wearing away with your troubles. 
I advised him to put the best face he could on it, for 
that Miss Hannay would be the last person to be pleased, 
if he were to be going about with a face as long as if he 
had just come from his aunt’s funeral.” 

The race meeting came off three weeks after Miss 
Hannay arrived at Cawnpore. She had been to several 
dinners and parties by this time and began to know 
most of the regular residents. 

The races served as an excuse for people to come in 
from all the stations round. Men came over* from 
Lucknow, Agra, and Allahabad, and from many a little 
outlying station, every bungalow in the cantonment 
was filled with guests, and tents were erected for the 
accommodation of the overflow. 

Several of the officers of the 103d had horses and 
ponies entered in the various races. There was to be a 
dance at the club on the evening of the second day of 
the races, and a garden party at the General’s on that 
of the first. Richards and Wilson both had ponies en- 
tered for the race confined to country tats which had 
never won a race, and both had endeavored to find 
without success what was Isobel’s favorite color. 

“But you must have some favorite color,” Wilson 
urged. 

“ Why must I, Mr. Wilson? One thing is suitable for 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 6 1 

one thing and one another, and I always like a color 
that is suitable for the occasion.” 

“ But what color are you going to wear at the races, 
Miss Hannay?” 

“Well, you see, I have several dresses,” Isobel said 
gravely, “ and I cannot say until the morning arrives 
which I may wear ; it will depend a good deal how I feel. 
Besides, I might object to your wearing the same color 
as I do. You remember in the old times knights, 
when they entered the lists, wore the favors that ladies 
had given them. Now I have no idea of giving you a 
favor. You have done nothing worthy of it. When 
you have won the Victoria Cross and distinguished 
yourself by some extraordinarily gallant action it will 
be quite time to think about it.” 

“ You see one has to send one’s color in four days be- 
forehand, in time for them to print it on the card,” the 
lad said, “ and besides, one has to get a jacket and cap 
made. ” 

“ But you don’t reflect that it is quite possible your 
pony won’t win after all, and supposing that I had colors, 
I certainly should not like to see them come in last in the 
race. Mr. Richards has been asking me just the same 
thing and, of course, I gave him the same answer. I 
can only give you the advice as I gave him.” 

“What was that. Miss Hannay?” Wilson asked 
eagerly. 

” Well, you see, it is not very long since either of you 
left school, so I should think the best thing for you to 
wear are your school colors, whatever they were.” 

And with a merry laugh at his look of discomfiture, 
Isobel turned away and joined Mrs. Doolan and two or 
three other ladies who were sitting with her. 

“There is one comfort,” Mrs. Doolan was just say- 
ing, “in this country: when there is anything coming 
off, there is no occasion to be anxious as to the weather; 
one knows that it will be hot, fine, ahd dusty. One 
can wear one’s gayest dress without fear. In Ireland, 
one never knew whether one wanted muslin or water- 
proof until the morning came, and even then one 
could not calculate with any certainty how it would be 


62 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


by twelve o’clock. This will be your first Indian fes- 
tivity, Miss Hannay.” 

“ Do the natives come much?” 

“ I should think so. All Cawnpore will turn out, 
and we shall have the Lord of Bithoor and any number 
of Talookdars and Zemindars with their suites. A good 
many of them will have horses entered, and they have 
some good ones if they could but ride them. The Rajah 
of Bithoor is a most important personage. He talks 
English very well, and gives splendid entertainments. 
He is a most polite gentleman, and is always over here 
if there is any thing going on. The general idea is that 
he has set his mind on having an English wife, the 
only difficulty being our objection to polygamy. He 
has every other advantage and his wife would have 
jewels that a queen might envy.” 

Isobel laughed. “ I don’t think jewels would count 
for much in my ideas of happiness.” 

“ It is not so much the jewels, my dear, in them- 
selves, but the envy they would excite in every other 
woman.” 

“ I don’t think I can understand that feeling, Mrs. 
Doolan. I can understand that there might be a satis- 
faction in being envied for being the happiest woman, 
or the most tastefully dressed woman, or even the 
prettiest woman, though that after all is a mere acci- 
dent, but not for having the greatest number of bright 
stones, however valuable. I don’t think the most lovely 
set of diamonds ever seen would give me as much satis- 
faction as a few choice flowers.” 

“ Ah, but that is because you are quite young,” Mrs. 
Doolan said. “ You see. Eve was tempted by an apple, 
but Eve had not lived long. You see, an apple will 
tempt a child, and flowers a young girl. Diamonds 
are the bait of a woman.” 

“ You would not care for diamonds yourself, Mrs. 
Doolan?” 

“I don’t know, my dear; the experiment was never 
tried — bog oak and Irish diamonds have been more in 
my line. Jim’s pay has never run to diamonds, worse 
luck, but he has promised me that if he ever gets a 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 63 

chance of looting the palace of a native Prince, he will 
keep a special look-out for them for me. So far he has 
never had the chance. When he was an ensign there 
was some hard fighting with the Sikhs, but nothing of 
that sort fell to his share. I often tell him that he 
took me under false pretences altogether. I had visions 
of returning some day and astonishing^ Ballycrogin, as 
a sort of begum covered with diamonds ; but as far as I 
can see the children are the only jewels that I am likely 
to take back.” 

“And very nice jewels too,” Isobel said heartily; 
“ they are dear little things, Mrs. Doolan, and worth all 
the diamonds in the world. I hear, Mrs. Prothero, that 
your husband has a good chance of winning the race for 
Arabs ; I intend to wager several pairs of gloves on his 
horse. ” 

“ Yes, Fatima is very fast. She won last year. But 
Nana Sahib has had the horse that won the cup at 
Poona last year, and is considered one of the fastest in 
India, brought across from Bombay. Our only hope is 
that he will put a native up, and in that case we ought 
to have a fair chance, for the natives have no idea of 
riding a waiting race, but go off at full speed, and take 
it all out of their horse before the end of the race.” 

“Well, we must hope he will, Mrs. Prothero; that 
seems, from what I hear, the only chance there is of 
the regiment winning a prize. So all our sympathies 
will be with you.” 

“ Hunter and his wife and their two girls are coming, ” 
the Major said the next morning as he opened his letters. 

“ Very well, uncle, then we will do as we arranged. 
The Miss Hunters shall have my room, and I will take 
the little passage room. ” 

“ I am afraid it will put you out, Isobel ; but they 
have been here for the last two years at the race-time, 
and I did not like not asking them again.” 

“ Of course, uncle. It will make no difference to me, 
and I don’t require any very great space to apparel 
myself.” 

“We must have dinners for twelve at least the day 
before the races and on the three days of the meeting.” 


64 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Isobel looked alarmed. “ I hope you don’t rely on 
me for the arrangements, uncle. Each of the four 
dinners we have been to I have done nothing but 
wonder how it was all done, and have been trembling 
over the thought that it would be our turn presently. 

It seemed a fearful responsibility ; and four, one after 
the other, is an appalling prospect.” 

“ Rumzan will see to it all, my dear. He has alwa5''s 
managed very well before. I will talk it over with 
him ; besides, these will not be like regular set dinner- 
parties. At race meetings every one keeps pretty 
nearly open house. One does not ask any of the people 
at the station; they have all their own visitors. One 
trusts to chance to fill up the table, and one never finds 
any difficulty about it. It is lucky I got up a regular stock 
of china and so on, in anticipation of your coming. Of 
course, as a bachelor, I have not been a dinner-giver, 
except on occasions like this, when nobody expects any- 
thing like state, and things are conducted to a certain ex- 
tent in pic-nic fashion. I have paid off my dinner 
obligations by having men at mess or the club ; however, 

I will consult Rumzan, and we will have a regular parade 
of our materials, and you shall inspect our resources. If 
there is anything in the way of flower vases or centre 
dishes, or anything of that sort you think requisite, we 
must get them. Jestonjee has got a good stock of 
all that sort of thing. As to tablecloths and napkins 
and so on, I had a supply with the china, so you will 
find that all right. Of course you will get plenty of 
flowers; they are the principal things, after all, toward . 
making the table look well. You have had no experi- i 
ence in arranging them, I suppose?” 

“ None at all, uncle ; I never arranged a vase of flowers 
in my life.” 

“ Then I tell you what you had better do, Isobel. 
You coax the Doctor into coming in and undertaking 
it. He is famous in that way. He always has the 
decoration of the mess-table on grand occasions ; and 
when we give a dance the flowers and decorations are 
left to him as a matter of course.” 

“ I will ask him, uncle ; but he is the last man in the 


IN THE DAYS OP THE MUTINY. 65 

world I should have thought of in connection with 
flowers and decorations.” 

“ He is a many-sided man, my dear; he paints excel- 
lently, and has wonderful taste in the way of dress. I 
can assure you that no lady in the regiment is quite 
satisfied with a new costume until it has received the 
stamp of the Doctor’s approval. When we were sta- 
tioned at Delhi four years ago there was a fancy ball, 
and people who were judges of that sort of thing said 
that they had never seen so pretty a collection of 
dresses, and I should think that fully half of them were 
made from the Doctor’s sketches.” 

“I remember now,” Isobel laughed, “that he was 
very sarcastic on board ship as to the dresses of some of 
the people, but I thought it was only his way of grum- 
bling at things in general, though certainly I generally 
agreed with him. He told me one day that my tastes 
evidently inclined to the dowdy, but you see I wore 
half mourning until I arrived out here.” 

The Doctor himself dropped in an hour later. 

“ I shall be glad, Doctor, if you will dine with us as 
often as you can during the four days of the races, ” 
Major Hannay said ; “ of course I shall be doing the 
hospitable to people who come in from out-stations, 
and as Isobel won’t know any of them it will be a little 
trying to her, acting for the first time in the capacity 
of hostess. As you know everybody you will be able to 
make things go. I have got Hunter and his wife and 
their two girls coming in to stay. I calculate the table 
will hold fourteen comfortably enough. . At any rate, 
come first night, even if you can’t come on the others.” 

“Certainly I will. Major, if you will let me bring 
Bathurst in with me; he is going to stay with me for 
the races.” 

“ By all means. Doctor, I like what I have seen of 
him very much. ” 

“Yes, he has got a lot in him,” the Doctor said, 

only he is always head over heels in work. He will 
make a big mark before he has done ; he is one of the 
few men out here who has thoroughly mastered the 
language; he can talk to the natives like one of them- 
5 


66 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


selves, and understands them so thoroughly that they 
are absolutely afraid to lie to him, which is the highest 
compliment a native can pay to an Indian official. It 
is very seldom he comes in to this sort of thing, but I 
seized him the other day and told him that I could see 
he would break down if he didn’t give himself a holi- 
day, and I fairly worried him into saying he would come 
over and stay for the races. I believe then he would 
not have come if I had not written to him that all the 
native swells would be here', and it would be an excel- 
lent opportunity for him to talk to them about the 
establishment of a school for the daughters of the upper 
class of natives; that is one of his fads at present.” 

“ But it would be a good thing surely. Doctor,” Isobel 
said. • . 

“No doubt, my dear, no doubt; and so would scores 
of other things if you could but persuade the natives so. 
But this is really one of the most impracticable schemes 
possible, simply because the whole of these unfortunate 
children get betrothed when they are two or three 
5^ears old, and are married at twelve. Even if all 
parties were agreed, the husband’s relations and the 
wife’s relations and every one else, what are you going 
to teach a child worth knowing before she gets to the 
age of twelve? Just enough to make her discontented 
with her lot. Once get the natives to alter their cus- 
toms and to marry their women at the age of eighteen 
and you may do something for them ; but as long as 
they stick to this idiotic custom of marrying them off 
when they are still children the case is hopeless.” 

“There is something I wanted to ask you. Doctor,” 
Isobel said. “You know this is the first time I have 
had anything to do with entertaining, and I know noth- 
ing about decorating a table. Uncle says that you are 
a great hand at the arrangement of flowers. Would 
you mind seeing to it for me?” 

The Doctor nodded. “ With pleasure. Miss Hannay. 
It is a thing I enjoy. There is nothing more lament- 
able than to see the ignorant, and I may almost say 
brutal, way in which people bunch flowers up into 
great masses and call that decoration. They might 


IN THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. 67 

just as well bunch up so many masses of bright-colored 
rags. The shape of the flower, its manner of growth, 
and its individuality are altogether lost, and the sole 
effect produced is that of a confused mass of color. I 
will undertake that part of the business, and you had 
better leave the buying of the flowers to me.” 

“Certainly, Doctor,” the Major said; “I will give 
you carte bla7iche. ” 

“Well, I must see your dinner service. Major, so 
that I may know about its color, and what you have got 
to put the flowers into.” 

“ I will have a regular parade to-morrow morning 
after breakfast, if it would be convenient for you to 
look in then, and at the same time I will get you to 
have a talk with Rumzan and the cook. I am almost 
as new to giving dinner parties as Isobel is. When 
one has half a dozen men to dine with one at the club, 
one gives the butler notice and chooses the wine, and 
one knows that it will be all right; but it is a very 
different thing when you have to go into the details 
yourself. Ordinarily I leave it entirely to Rumzan and 
the cook, and I am bound to say they do very well, but 
this is a different matter.” 

“ We will talk it over with them together. Major. 
You can seem to consult me, but it must come from 
you to them, or else you will be getting their backs up. 
Thank goodness Indian servants don’t give themselves 
the airs English ones do; but human nature is a good 
deal the same everywhere, and the first great rule if 
you want any domestic arrangements to go off well is 
to keep the servants in good temper.” 

“We none of us like to be interfered with. Doctor.” 

“A wise man is always ready to be taught,” the 
Doctor said, sententiously. 

“ Well, [there are exceptions. Doctor. I remember 
soon after* I joined a man blew off two of his fingers. 
A young surgeon who was here wanted to amputate 
the hand; he was just going to set about it when a staff 
surgeon came in and said that it had better not be done, 
for that natives could not .stand amiputations. The 
young surgeon was very much annoyed. The staff 


68 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


surgeon went away next day. There was a good deal 
of inflammation, and the young surgeon decided to am- 
putate ; the man never rallied from the operation and 
died next day.” 

“ I said, Major, that a wise man was always ready to 
listen to good advice. I was not a wise man in those 
days, I was a pig-headed young fool. I thought I knew 
all about it, and 1 was quite right according to my ex- 
perience in London hospitals. In the case of an 
Englishman the hand would have been amputated and 
the man would have been all right three weeks after- 
ward. But I knew nothing about these soft-hearted 
Hindoos, and never dreamed that an operation which 
would be a trifle to an Englishman would be fatal to 
one of them, and that simply because, although they 
are plucky enough in some respects, they have no more 
heart than a mouse when anything is the matter with 
them. Yes, if it hadn’t been for the old Colonel who 
gave me a private hint to say nothing about the affair, 
but merely to put down in my report, ‘died from the 
effect of a gunshot wound, ’ I should have got into a 
deuce of a scrape over that affair; as it was it only cost 
me a hundred rupees to satisfy the man’,s family and 
send them back to their native village. That was for 
years a standing joke against me. Miss Hannay; except 
your uncle and the Colonel, there is no one left in the 
regiment who was there, but it was a sore subject for a 
long time. Still, no doubt it was a useful lesson, and 
my rule has been ever since, never amputate except as a 
forlorn hope, and even then don’t amputate, for if you 
do the relatives of the man, as far as his fourth cousins, 
will inevitably regard you as his murderer. Well, I 
must be off ; I will look in to-morrow morning. Major, 
and make an inspection of your resources. ” 

“ I am glad to see the Hunters are going to bring 
over their carriage,” the Major said two days later, as 
he looked through a letter. “ I am very glad of that, 
for I put it off till too late. I have been trying every- 
where for the last two days to hire one, but they are 
all engaged, and have been so for weeks, I hear. I was 
wondering what I should do, for my buggy will only 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 69 

hold two. I was thinking of asking Mrs. Doolan if she 
could take one of the Miss Hunters, and should have 
tried to find a place for the other, but this settles it all 
comfortably. They are going to send on their own 
\ horses half-way the day before, and hire native ponies 
lor the first half. They have a good large family 
vehicle; I hoped that they would bring it, but, of 
course, I could not trust to it. ” 

The Doctor presently dropped in with Captain Doolan. 
After chatting for some time the former said : “ I have 
had the satisfaction this morning. Miss Hannay, of re- 
lieving Mrs. Cromarty’s mind of a great burden.” 

“ How was that. Doctor?” 

“ It was in relation to you, my dear.” 

“Me, Doctor! how could I have been a weight on 
Mrs. Cromarty’s mind?” 

“ She sent for me under the pretence of being fever- 
ish ; said she had a headache, and so on. Her pulse 
was all right, and I told her at once I did not think 
there was much the matter with her; but I recom- 
mended her to keep out of the sun for two days. Then 
she began a chat about the station. She knows, that, 
somehow or other, I generally hear all that is going on. 
I wondered what was coming till she said casually: ‘Do 
you know what arrangement Major Hannay has made 
as to his niece for the races?’ I said of course that the 
Hunters were coming over to sta)". I could see at once 
that her spirit was instantly relieved of a heavy burden, 
but she only said: ‘Of course, then, that settles the 
question. I had intended to send across to her this 
morning, to ask if she would like a seat in my carriage; 
having no lady with her, she could not very well have 
gone to the races alone. Naturally, I should have been 
very pleased to have had her with us. However, as 
Mrs. Hunter will be staying at the Major’s, and will 
act as her chaperon, the matter is settled. ’ ” 

“Well, I think it was very kind of her thinking of it,” 
Isobel said, “ and I don’t think it is nice of you. Doctor, 
to say that it was an evident relief to her when she 
found I had some one else to take cax'e of me, Why 
should it have been a relief?” 


70 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ I have no doubt it has weighed on her mind for the 
last fortnight,’’ the Doctor said; “she must have seen 
that as you were freshly joined and the only unmarried 
girl in the regiment, except her- own daughters, it was 
only the proper thing she should offer you a seat in her 
carriage. No doubt she decided to put it off as late as 
possible, in hopes that you might make some other ar- 
rangement. Had you not done so, she might have done 
the heroic thing and invited you ; though I am by no 
means sure of it. Of course now she will say the first 
time she meets you that she was quite disappointed at 
having heard from me that Mrs. Hunter would be with 
you, as she had hoped to have the pleasure of having 
you in her carriage with her.’’ 

“ But why shouldn’t she like it?’’ Isobel said indig- 
nantly. “Surely I am not as disagreeable as all that! 
Come, Doctor!” 

Captain Doolan laughed, while the Doctor said, “ It 
is just the contrar}^ my dear. I am quite sure that if 
you were in Mrs. Cromarty’s place, and had two tall, 
washed-out looking daughters, you would not feel the 
slightest desire to place Miss Hannay in the same car- 
ii;iage with them.” 

“ I call that very disagreeable of you. Doctor,” Isobel 
said, flushing, “ and I shall not like you at all if you 
take such unkind and malicious views of people. I 
don’t suppose such an idea ever entered into Mrs. 
Cromarty’s head, and even if it did it makes it all the 
kinder that she should think of offering me a seat. I 
do think most men seem to consider that women think 
of nothing but looks, and that girls are always trying 
to attract men, and mothers always thinking of getting 
their daughters married. It is not at all nice. Doctor, 
to have such ideas, and I shall thank Mrs. Cromarty 
warmly, when I see her, for her kindness in thinking 
about me. ” 

Accordingly, that afternoon, when they met at the 
usual hour,- when the band was playing, Isobel went up 
to the Colonel’s wife. 

“ I want to thank you, Mrs. Cromart}7. Doctor Wade 
has told me that you had intended to offer me a seat in 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


71 


your carriage to the races. It was very kind and nice 
of you to think of me, and I am very much obliged to 
you. I should have enjoyed it very much if it hadn’t 
have been that Mrs. Hunter is coming to stay with ns, ' 
and, of course, I shall be under her wing. Still, I am 
just as much obliged to you for having thought of it.” 

Mrs. Cromarty was pleased with the girl’s warmth 
and manner, and afterward mentioned to several of her 
friends that she thought that Miss Hannay seemed a 
very nice young woman. 

“I was not ^uite favorably impressed at first,” she 
admitted. “ She has the misfortune of being a little 
brusque in her manner, but, of course, her position is 
a difficult one, being alone out here, without any lady 
with her, and no doubt she feels it so. vShe was quite 
touchingly grateful, only because I offered her a seat 
in our carriage for the races, though she was unable to 
accept it, as the Major will have the Hunters staying 
with him.” 



CHAPTER VI. 

The club-house at Cawnpore was crowded on the 
evening before the races. Up to eleven o’clock it had 
been comparatively deserted, for there was scarcely a 
bungalow in the station at which dinner-parties were 
not going on; but after eleven, the gentlemen, for the 
most part, adjourned to the club for a smoke, a rubber, 
or game of billiards, or to chat over the racing events 
of the next day. 

Loud greetings were exchanged as each fresh contin- 
gent arrived, for many new-comers had come into the 
station only that afternoon. Every table in the whist 
room was occupied, black pool was being played in the 
billiard-room upstairs, where most of the younger men 
were gathered, while the elders smoked and talked in 
the rooms below. 

“What will you do, Bathurst,” the Doctor asked his 
guest, after the party from the Major’s had been chat- 


72 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


ting for some little time downstairs ; “would you like 
to cut in at a rubber or take a ball at pool?” 

“ Neither, Doctor, they are both accomplishments 
beyond me. I have not patience with whist and I can’t 
play billiards in the least, I have tried over and over 
again, but I am too nervous, I fancy; I break down over 
the easiest stroke — in fact an easy stroke is harder for me 
than a difficult one. I know I ought to make it and 
just for that reason I suppose I don’t.” 

“You don’t give one the idea of ^ nervous man 
either, Bathurst.” 

“ Well, I am. Doctor, constitutionall)^ and terribly so.” 

“ Not in business matters, anyhow,” the Doctor said, 
with a smile. “You have the reputation of not mind- 
ing in the slightest what responsibility you take upon 
yourself, and of carrying out what you undertake in the 
most resolute, I won’t say high-handed manner.” 

“No, it doesn’t come in there,” Bathurst laughed. 
“ Morally I am not nervous so far as I know, physically 
I am. I would give a great deal if I could get over it, 
but, as I have said, it is constitutional. ” 

“ Not on your father’s side, Bathurst. I knew him 
well, and he was a very gallant officer.” 

“ No, it was the other side,” Bathurst said. “ I will 
tell you about it some day.” 

At this moment another friend of Bathurst’s came up 
and entered into conversation with him. 

“Well, I will go upstairs to the billiard-room,” the 
Doctor said; “and you will find me there, Bathurst, 
whenever you feel disposed to go.” 

A pool had just been finished when the Doctor en- 
tered the billiard-room. 

“That is right. Doctor, you are just in time,” 
Prothero said, as he entered. “ Sinclair has given up 
his cue ; he is going to ride to-morrow, and is afraid of 
shaking his nerves; you must come and play for the 
honor of the corps. I am being ruined altogether, and 
Doolan has retired discomforted. ” 

“I have not touched a cue since I went away,” the 
Doctor said, “ but I don’t mind adding to the list of vic- 
tims. Who are the winners?” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


73 


“ Messenger and Jarvis have been carrying all before 
them ; there is a report they have just sent off two club 
waiters with loads of rupees to their quarters. , Scars- 
dale has been pretty well holding his own, but the rest 
of us are nowhere.” 

A year’s want of practice, however, told, and the 
Doctor was added to the list of victims; he had no dif- 
ficulty in getting some one else to take his cue after 
playing for half an hour. 

“It shows that practice is required for everything,” 
he said ; “ before I went away I could have given each 
of those men a life, now they could give me two; I 
must devote half an hour a day to it till I get it back 
again.” 

“And you shall give me a lesson. Doctor,” Captain 
Doolan, who had also retired, said. 

“ It would be time thrown away by both of us, 
Doolan. You would never make a pool player if you 
were to practise all your life. It is not the eye that is 
wrong but the temperament. You can make a very 
good shot now and then, but you are too harum-scarum 
and slap-dash altogether. The art of playing pool is 
the art of placing yourself, while, when you hit, you 
have not the faintest idea where your ball is going to, 
and you are just as likely to run in yourself as you are 
to pot your adversary. I should abjure it if I were 
you, Doolan, it is too expensive a luxury for you to in- 
dulge in.” 

“You are right there. Doctor, only what is a man to 
do when fellows say, ‘We want you to make up a pool, 
Doolan?’ ” 

“ I should say the reply would be quite simple. I 
should answer, ‘I am ready enough to play if any of 
you are read}^ to pay my losses and take my winnings; 
I am tired of being as good as an annuity to you all,’ 
for that is what you have been for the last ten years. 
Why, it would be cheaper for you to send home to Eng- 
land for skittles, and get a ground up here.” . 

“ But I don’t play so very badly. Doctor.” 

“If you play badly enough always to lose it doesn’t 
matter as to the precise degree of badness,” the Doctor 


74 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


retorted. “ It is not surprising. When you came out 
here fourteen or fifteen years ago boys did not take to 
playing billiards, but they do now. Look at that little 
villain, Richards. He has just cleared the table, and 
done it with all the coolness of a professional marker. 
The young scoundrel ought to have been in bed two 
hours ago, for I hear that tat of his is really a good 
one. Not that it will make any difference to him. 
That sort of boy would play billiards till the first bugle 
sounds in the morning, and have a wash and turn out 
as fresh as paint; but it won’t last, Doolan, not in this 
climate; his cheeks will have fallen in and he will have 
crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes before another 
5’’ear has gone over. I like that other boy, Wilson, 
better. Of course he is a cub as yet, but I should say 
there is good in him. Just at present I can see he is 
beginning to fancy himself in love with Miss Hannay. 
That will do him good ; it is always an advantage to a 
lad like that to have a good honest liking for a nice 
girl. Of course it comes to nothing, and for a time he 
imagines himself the most unhappy of mortals, but it 
does him good for all that ; fellows are far less likel)^ to 
get into mischief and go to the bad after an affair of 
that sort. It gives him a high ideal, and if he is worth 
anything he will try to make himself worthy of her, and 
the good it does him will continue even after the charm 
is broken.” 

“What a fellow you are. Doctor!” Captain Doolan 
said, looking down upon his companion, “ talking away 
like that in the middle of this racket, which would be 
enough to bother Saint Patrick himself.” 

“Well, come along downstairs, Doolan, we will have 
a final peg and then be off. I expect Bathurst is begin- 
ning to fidget before now.” 

“ It will do him good,” Captain Doolan said disdain- 
fully; “ I have no patience with a man who is forever 
working himself to death,- riding about the country as 
if Old Nick were behind him, and never giving himself 
a minute for diversion of any kind. Faith, I would 
rather throw myself down a well and have done with 
it, than work ten times as hard as a black nigger.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


75 


“Well, I don’t think, Doolan,”the Doctor said dryly, 
“you are ever likely to be driven to suicide by any such 
cause.” 

“You are right there. Doctor,” the other said con- 
tentedly. “ No man can throw it in my teeth that I 
ever worked when I had no occasion to work. If there 
were a campaign, I expect I could do my share with the 
best of them, but in quiet times I just do what I have 
to do, and if any one has an anxiety to take my place 
in 'the rota for duty, he is as welcome to it as the 
flowers of May. I had my share of it when I was a 
subaltern ; there is no better fellow living than the 
Major, but when he was captain of my company he used 
to keep me on the run by the hour together, till I wished 
myself back in Connaught, and any one who liked it 
might have had the whole of India for anything I 
cared ; he was one of the most uneasy creatures I ever 
came across.” 

“ The Major is a good officer, Doolan, and you were 
as lazy a youngster, and as hard a bargain, as the com- 
pany ever got. You ought to thank your stars that you 
had the good luck in having a captain who knew his 
business, and made you learn yours. Why, if you had 
^ had a man like Rintoul as your captain, you would 
never have been worth your salt.” 

“You are not complimentary. Doctor; but then no- 
body looks for compliments from you.” 

“I can pay compliments if I have a chance,” the 
Doctor retorted, “ but it is very seldom I get one of 
doing so — at least, without lying. ¥7ell, Bathurst, are 
you ready to turn in?” # 

“ Quite ready. Doctor ; that is one of the advantages 
of not caring for racing; the merits and demerits of 
the horses that run to-morrow do not in the slightest 
degree affect me, and even the news that all the favor- 
ites had gone wrong would not deprive me of an 
hour’s sleep,” 

• “. I think it a good thing to take an interest in. racing, 
Bathurst. . Take men as a whole out here they work 
hard — some of them work tremendously hard — and un- 
less they get some change to their thoughts, some sort 


76 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


of recreation, nineteen out of twenty will break 
down sooner or later. If they don’'t they become mere 
machines. Every man ought to have some sort of 
hobby; he need not ride it to death, but he wants to 
take some sort of interest in it. I don’t care whether 
he takes to pig-sticking, or racing, or shooting, or 
whether he goes in for what I may call the milder 
kinds of relaxation, such as dining out, billiards, whist, 
or even general philandering. Anything is better than 
nothing — anything that will take his mind off his work. 
As far as I can see you don’t do anything.” 

“ Therefore I shall either break down or become a 
machine, Doctor?” 

“One or the other certainly, Bathurst. Yoii may 
smile, but I mean what I say. I have seen other 
young fellows just as full of work and enthusiasm as 
you are, but I have never seen an exception to the rule, 
unless, of course, they took up something so as to give 
their minds a rest.” 

“ The Doctor has just been scolding me because I am 
not fond enough of work,” Captain Doolan laughed. 

“You are differently placed, Doolan,” the Doctor 
said. “You have got plenty of enthusiasm in your 
nature — most Irishmen have — but you have had noth- ^ 
ing to stir it. Life in a native regiment in India is an 
easy one. Your duties are over in two or three hours 
out of the twenty-four, whereas the work of a civilian 
in a large district literally never ends, unless he puts a 
resolute stop to it. What with seeing people from 
morning until night, and riding about and listening to 
complaints, every hour of the day is occupied, and then 
at night there are reports to write and documents of all 
r3orts to go through. It is a great pity that there can- 
not be a better division of work, though I own I don’t 
see how it is to be managed.” 

By this time they were walking toward the lines. 

“ I should not mind taking a share of the civil work 
at the station,” Captain Doolan said, “if they would 
make our pay a little more like that of the civilians.” 

“There is something in that, Doolan,” the Doctor 
agreed; “it is just as hard work having nothing to do 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 77 

as it is having too much ; and I have always been of 
opinion that the tremendous disproportion between the 
pay of a military man and of a civilian of the same age 
is simpl)’ monstrous. Well, good-night, Doolan ; I 
hope you will tell Mrs. Doolan that the credit is en- 
tirely due to me that you are home at the reasonable 
hour of one o’clock, insteaad of dropping in just in 
time to change for parade. ” 

“A good fellow,” the Doctor said, as he walked on 
with Bathurst; “he would never set the Thames on 
fire; but he is an honest, kindly fellow. He would 
make a capital officer if we were on service. His mar- 
riage has been an excellent thing for him. He had 
nothing to do before but to pass away his time in the 
club or mess-house, and drink more than was good for 
him. But he has pulled himself round altogether since 
he married. His wife is a bright, clever little woman, 
and knows how to make the house happy for him ; if he 
had married a lackadaisical sort of woman, the betting 
is he would have gone to the bad altogether. ” 

“ I only met him once or twice before,” Bathurst said. 
“ You see I am not here very often, and when I am it is 
only on business, so I know a very few people here ex- 
cept those I have to deal with, and by the time I have 
got through my business I am generally so thoroughly 
out of temper with the pig-headed stupidity and ob- 
stinacy of people in general, that I get into my buggy 
and drive straight away. ” 

“ I fancy 3’’ou irritate them as much as they irritate 
you, Bathurst. Well, here we are; now we will have 
a quiet cheroot and a peg to quiet our nerves after all 
that din before we turn in. Let us get offi our coats 
and collars, and make ourselves comfortable; it is a 
proof of the bestial stupidity of mankind that they 
should wear such abominations as dress-clothes in a 
climate like this. Here, boy, light the candles, and 
bring two sodas and brandies.” 

“Well, Bathurst,” he went on, when they had made 
themselves comfortable in two lounging-chairs, “ what 
do you think of Miss Hannay?” 

“ I was prepared to admire her. Doctor, from what 


78 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

you said; it is not very often that )^ou over-praise 
things; but she is a charming girl, very pretty and 
bright, frank and natural.” 

“ She is all that,” the Doctor said. “We were four 
months on the voyage out, and I saw enough of her in 
that time to know her pretty thoroughly. ” 

“ What puzzles me about her,” Bathurst said, “ is that 
I seem to know her face. Where I saw her, and under 
what circumstances, I have been puzzling myself half 
the evening to recall, but I have the strongest convic- 
tion that I have met her.” 

” You are dreaming, man. You have jDeen out here 
eight years; she was a child of ten when you left Eng- 
land. You certainly have not seen her, and as I know 
pretty well every woman who has been in this station 
for the la.st five or six years, I can answer for it that you 
have not seen any one in the slightest degree resem- 
bling her.” ^ 

“ That is what I have been saying to myself. Doctor, 
but that does not in the slightest degree shake my con- 
viction about it. ” 

“Then you must have dreamed it,” the Doctor said 
decidedly. “ Some fool of a poet has said, ‘Visions of 
love cast their shadows before,’ or something of that 
sort, which of course is a lie — still that is the only way 
that I can account for it.^ 

Bathurst smiled faintly. “ I don’t think the quota- 
tion is quite right. Doctor; anyhow I am convinced 
that the impression is far too vivid to have been the 
result of a dream.” 

“By the way, Bathu^t,” the Doctor said, suddenly 
changing«his conversation, “what do you think of this 
talk we hear about chupaties being sent round among 
the native troops, and the talk about greased cartridges? 
You see moi^ of the natives than any one I know; do 
you think there is anything brewing in the air?” 

“.If there is. Doctor, I am certain it is not known to 
the natives in general. I see no change whatever in 
their manner, and I am sure I know them well enough 
to notice any change if it existed. I know nothing 
about the Sepoys, but Garnet tells me that the company 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


79 


at Deennugghur give him nothing to complain of, 
though they don’t obey orders as smartly as usual, and 
there is a sullen air about their going about their work.” 

“ I don’t like it, Bathurst. I do not understand what 
the chupaties mean, but I know that there is a sort of 
tradition that the sending of them round has always 
preceded trouble. The Sepoys have no reason for dis- 
content, but there has been no active service lately and 
idleness is always bad for men. I can’t believe there 
is any widespread dissatisfaction among them, but 
there is no doubt whatever that if there is, and it breaks 
out, the position will be a very serious one. There are 
not half enough white troops in India, and the Sepoys 
may well think that they are masters of the situation. 
It would-be a terrible time for everyone in India if they 
did take it into their heads to rise.” 

“ I can’t believe they would be mad enough to do 
that. Doctor; they have everything to lose by it and 
nothing to gain, that is individually, and we should be 
sure to win in the long run, even if we had to conquer 
back India foot b)^ foot.” 

“That is all very well, Bathurst; we may know' that 
w^e could do it, but they don’t know it. They are 
ignorant altogether of the force we could put into the 
field were there a necessity to make the effort. They 
naturally suppose that we can have but a few soldiers, 
for in all the battles we have fought there have always 
been tw^o or three Sepoy regiments to one English. 
Besides, they consider themselves fully a match for us. 
They have fought by us side by side in every battlefield 
in India, and have done as well as we have. I don’t 
see what they should rise for. I don’t even see whose 
interest it is to bring a rising about, but I do know 
that if they rise w'e shall have a terrible time 
of it. Now I think we may as well turn in. You 
won’t take another peg? Well, I shall see you in the 
morning. I shall be at the hospital by half-past six, 
and shall be in at half-past eight to breakfast. You 
have only got to shout for my man and tell him whether 
you will have tea, coffee, or chocolate, any time you 
wake. ” 


8o 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“I shall be about by six, Doctor; five is my general 
hour, but as it is past one now, I dare say I shall be 
able to sleep on for an hour later, especially as there 
is nothing to do. ” 

“ You can go round the hospital with me if you like,” 
the Doctor said, “ if you ^ill promise not to make a dozen 
suggestions for the improvement of things in general.” 

Isobel Hannay came down to breakfast in high spirits 
on the morning of the races. The dinner had gone off 
excellently. The dinner-table with its softly shaded 
lamps and the Doctor’s arrangement of the flowers 
had been, she thought, perfection, and everything had 
passed off without a hitch. Her duties as a hostess 
had been much lighter than she had anticipated. Mrs. 
Hunter was a very pleasant, motherly woman,- and the 
girls, who had only come out from England four months 
before, were fresh and unaffected, and the other people 
had all been pleasant and chatty. 

Altogether she felt that her first dinner-party had 
been a great success. 

She was looking forward now with pleasant anticipa- 
tion to the da 5 ^ She had seen but little of the natives 
so far, and she was now to see them at their best. 
Then she had never been present at a race, and every- 
thing would be new and exciting. 

“Well, uncle, what time did you get in?” she asked, 
as she stepped out into the veranda to meet him on 
his return from early parade. “It was too bad of you 
and Mr. Hunter running off instead of waiting to chat 
things over.” 

“ I have no doubt you ladies did plenty of that, my 
dear. ” 

“ Indeed, we didn’t, uncle. You see they had had a 
very long ride, and Mrs. Hunter insisted on the girls 
going to bed directly you all went out, and as I could 
not sit up by myself I had to go too.” 

“We were in at half-past twelve,” the Major said. 
“ I can stand a good deal of smoke, but the club atmos- 
phere was too thick for me. ” 

“ Everything went off very well yesterday, didn’t it?” 
she asked. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


8 


“ Very well, I thought, my dear, thanks to you and the 
Doctor and Rumzan.” 

“ I had very little to do with it,” she laughed. 

“Well, I don’t think you had much to do with the 
absolute arrangements, Isobel, but I thought you did 
very well as hostess ; it seemed to me that there was a 
good deal of laughing and fun at your end of the table. ” 

“ Yes, you see we had the two Miss Hunters and the 
Doctor there, and Mr. Gregson, who took me in, turned 
out a very merry old gentleman.” 

“ He would not be pleased if he heard you call him 
old, Isobel.” 

“Well, of course he is not absolutely old, but being 
a commissioner and all that sort of thing gives one the 
idea of being old; but there are the others.” And they 
went into the breakfast-room. * 

The first race was set for two o’clock, and at half- 
past one Mrs. Hunter’s carriage with the four ladies 
arrived at the enclosure. The horses were taken out 
and the carriage wheeled into its place, and then Isobel 
and the two Miss Hunters prepared to enjoy the scene. 

It was a very gay one. The course was at present 
covered with a throng of natives in their bright-colored 
garments, and mixed with them were the scarlet uni- 
forms of the Sepoys of the 103d and other regiments. 
On the opposite side were a number of native vehicles 
of various descriptions, and some elephants with painted 
faces and gorgeous trappings, and with howdahs shaded 
by pavilions glittering with gilt and silver. 

On either side of their own a long line of carriages 
was soon formed up, and among these were several oc- 
cupied by gayly dressed natives, whose rank gave them 
entrance to the privileged enclosure. The carriages 
were placed three or four yards back from the rail, and 
the intervening space was filled with civilian and mili- 
tary officers, in white or light attire, and with pith 
helmet or puggaree; many others were on horseback 
behind the carriages. 

“ It is a bright scene. Miss Hannay,” the Doctor said, 
coming up to the carriage. 

“Wonderfully pretty, Doctor!” 


82 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“An English race-course doesn’t do after this, I can 
tell you. I went down on the Derby when I was at 
home and such an assembly of riff-raff I never saw be- 
fore and never wish to see again.” 

“These people are more picturesque, Doctor Wade,” 
Mrs. Hunter said, “ but that is merely a question of 
garment ; these people perhaps are no more trustworthy 
than those you met on the race-course at home. ” 

“ I was speaking purely of them as a spectacle ; indi- 
vidually I have no doubt one would be safer among the 
English roughs and betting men than among these 
placid-looking natives. The one would pick your 
pockets of every penny you have got if they had the 
chance, the other would cut your throat with just as 
little compulsion.” 

“You don’t really mean that, Doctor Wade,” Isobel 
said. 

“ I do indeed. Miss Hannay ; the Oude men are no- 
torious brawlers and fighters, and I should say that the 
roughs of Cawnpore and Lucknow could give long odds 
of those of any European city, and three out of four of 
those men you see walking about there would not only 
cut the throat of a European to obtain what money he 
had about him, but would do so without that incentive 
upon the simple ground that he hated us.” 

“ But why should he hate us. Doctor? He is none the 
worse off now than he was before we annexed the 
country.” 

” Well, yes, that class of man is worse off. In the 
old days every noble and Zemindar kept up a little 
army for the purpose of fighting his neighbors, just as 
our Barons used to do in the happy olden times people 
talk of. We have put down private fighting, and the 
consequence is these men’s occupations are gone, and 
they flock to great towns and there live as best they 
can, ready to commit any crime whatever, for the sum 
of a few rupees. There is Nana Sahib.” 

Isobel looked round and saw a carriage with a mag- 
nificent pair of horses in harness almost covered with 
silver ornaments, drive up to a place that had been 
kept vacant for it. Four natives were sitting in it. 


IN THE BAYS OF THE MUTINY. 83 

“That is the Rajah,” the Doctor said, “the farther 
man with that aigrette of diamonds in his turban. He 
is Oriental to-day, but sometimes he affects English 
fashions. He is a very cheery fellow; he keeps 
pretty well open house at Bithoor, has a billiard table 
and a first-rate cellar of wine, carriages for the use of 
guests — in fact he does the thing really handsomely.” 

“ Here is my opera-glass, ” Mrs. Hunter said. Isobel 
looked long and fixedly at the Rajah. 

“ Well, what do you think of him?” the Doctor asked, 
as she lowered it. 

“ I do not know what to think of him, "she said; “his 
face does not tell me anything, it is like looking at a 
mask ; but you see I am not accustomed to read brown 
men’s characters, they are so different from Europeans, 
their faces all seem so impressive. I suppose it is the 
way in which they are brought up and trained.” 

“ Ages of ty'ranny have made them supple and de- 
ceitful,” the Doctor said, “but of course less so here 
than among the Bengallies, who, being naturally un- 
warlike and cowardly, have always been the slaves of 
some master or other. 

“ You evidently don’t like the Nana, Miss Hannay. I 
am rather glad you don’t, for he is no great favorite of 
mine, though he is so generally popular in the station 
here. I don’t like him because it is not natural that he 
should be so friendly with us. We undoubtedly, ac- 
cording to native notions, robbed him of one of the 
finest positions in India by refusing to acknowledge his 
adoption. We have given him a princely revenue, but 
that, after all, is a mere trifle to what he would have 
had as Peishwa. Whatever virtues the natives of this ‘ 
country possess, the forgiving of injuries is not among 
them, and therefore I consider it to be altogether un- 
natural that he, having been, as he at any rate, and 
every one round him must consider, foully wronged, 
should go out of his way to affect our society, and de- 
clare the warmest friendship for us.” 

The Rajah was laughing and talking with General 
Wheeler and the group of officers round his carriage. 


84 


IN THE DAYS OP THE MUTINY. 


Again Isobel raised the glasses. “Yon are right, 
Doctor,” she said, “I don’t like him.” 

“Well, there is one comfort, it doesn’t matter whether 
he is sincere or not, he is powerless to hurt us. I don’t 
see any motive for his pretending to be friendly if he is 
not, but I own that I should like him better if he sulked 
and would have nothing to say to us, as would be the 
natural course. ” 

The bell now began to ring, and the native police 
cleared the course. Major Hannay and Mr. Hunter, 
who had driven over in the buggy, came up and took 
their places on the box of the carriage. 

“ Here are cards of the races,” he said. “ Now is the 
time, young ladies, to make your bets.” 

“ I don’t know even the name of any one in this first 
race,” Isobel said, looking at the card. 

“That doesn’t matter in the least. Miss Hannay,” 
Wilson, who had just come up to the side of the car- 
riage, said. “There are six horses in; you pick out 
any one you like, and I will lay you five pairs of gloves 
to one against him.” 

“ But how am I to pick out when I don’t know any- 
thing about them, Mr. Wilson? I might pick out one 
that had no chance at all.” 

“ Yes, but you might pick out the favorite, Miss Han- 
nay, so that it is quite fair.” 

“Don’t you bet, Isobel,” her uncle said. “Let us 
have a sweepstake, instead.” 

“What is a sweepstake, uncle?” 

There was a general laugh. 

“Well, my dear, we each put in a rupee. There are 
six of us, and there are Wilson and the Doctor. You 
will go in. Doctor, won’t you?” 

“Yes; I don’t mind throwing away a rupee. Major.” 

“Very well, that makes eight. We put eight pieces 
of paper in the hat. Six of them have got the names of 
the horses on, the other two are blank. Then we each 
pull out one. Whoever draws the name of the horse 
that wins takes five rupees, the holder of the second 
two, and the third saves his stake. You shall hold the 
stakes, Mrs. Hunter. We have all confidence in you.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


85 


The slips were drawn. 

“ My horse is Bruce," Isobel said. 

“ There he is, Miss Hannay,” Wilson, who had drawn 
a blank, said, as ahorse whose rider had a straw-colored 
jacket and cap came cantering along the course. “ This 
jis a race for country horses — owners up. That means 
‘ridden by their owners. That is Pearson of the 13th 
Native Cavalry. He brought the horse over from 
Lucknow." 

“ What chance has he?" 

“ I have not the least idea. Miss Hannay. I did not 
hear any betting on this race at all." 

“ That is a nice horse, uncle," Isobel said, as one with 
a rider in black jacket, with red cap, came past. 

“That is Delhi. Yes, it has good action." 

“ That is mine," the eldest Miss Hunter said. 

“The rider is a good-looking young fellow," the 
Doctor said, “ and is perfectly conscious of it himself. 
Who is he, Wilson? I don’t know him." 

“ He is a civilian. Belongs to the public works, I 
think." 

The other horses now came along, and after short 
preliminary canters the start was made. To Isobel’s 
disappointment, her horse was never in the race, which 
Delhi looked like winning until near the post, when a 
rather common-looking horse, which had been lying a 
short distance behind him, came up with a rush and 
won by a length. 

“I don’t call that fair," Miss Hunter said, “when 
the other was first all along. I call that a mean way of 
winning, don’t you, father?" 

“ Well, no, my dear. It was easy to see for the last 
quarter of a mile that the other was making what is 
called a ‘waiting race’ of it, and was only biding his 
time. There is nothing unfair in that. I fancy Delhi 
might have won if he had had a better jockey. His 
rider never really called upon him till it was too late. 
He was so thoroughly satisfied with himself and his 
position in the race that he was taken completely by 
surprise when Moonshee came suddenly up to him." 

“ Well, I think it is very hard upon Delhi, father, 


86 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


after keeping ahead all the way and going so nicely. 
I think every one ought. to do their best from the first.” 

“ I fanc}^ you are thinking, Miss Hunter,” the Doctor 
said, “ quite as much that it is hard on you being beaten 
after your hopes being raised as it is upon the horse.” 

“Perhaps I am. Doctor,” she admitted. 

“I think it is much harder on me,” Isobel said. 
“ You have had the satisfaction of thinking all along 
that your horse was going to win, while mine never 
gave me the least bit of hope. ” 

“ The proper expression. Miss Hannay, is, your horse 
never flattered you. ” 

“Then I think it is a very silly expression, Mr. Wil- 
son, because I don’t see that flattery has anything' to 
do with it.” 

“Ah, here is Bathurst,” the Doctor said. “Where 
have you been, Bathurst? You slipped away from me 
just now.” 

“ I have just been talking to the Commissioner, Doc- 
tor. I have been trying to get him to see 

“Why, you don’t mean to say,” the Doctor broke in, 
“ that you have been trying to cram your theories down 
his throat on a race-course!” 

“ It was before the race began,” Bathurst said, “ and 
I don’t think the Commissioner has any more interest 
in racing than I have. ” 

“Not in racing,” the Doctor agreed, “but I expect 
he has an interest in enjoying himself generally, which 
is a thing you don’t seem to have the most remote idea 
of. Here we are just getting up a sweepstake for the 
next race ; hand over a rupee and try to get up an in- 
terest in it. Do try and forget your work till the race 
is over. I have brought you here to do you good. I 
regard you as my patient and I give you my medical 
orders that you are to enjoy yourself.” 

Bathurst laughed. 

“ I am enjoying myself in my way. Doctor. ” 

“ Who is that very pretty woman standing up in the 
next carriage but one?” Isobel asked. 

“ She comes from an out-station,” the Doctor replied, 
she is the wife of the Collector there, but I think she 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 87 

likes Cawnpore better than Boorgum; her name is 
Rose.” 

“ Is that her husband talking to her?” 

“ No, that is a man in the Artillery here, I think.” 

“Yes,” the Major said, “that is Harrowby, a good- 
looking fellow and quite a ladies’ man.” 

“ Do you mean a man ladies like, uncle, or who likes 
the society of ladies?” 

“ Both in his case, I wshould fancy, ” the Major said ; “ I 
believe he is considered one of the best-looking men in 
the service.” 

“ I don’t see why he should be liked for that,” Isobel 
said. “ As far as I have seen, good-looking men are 
not so pleasant as others. I suppose it is because they 
are conscious of their own good looks, and therefore do 
not take the trouble of being amusing. We had one 
very good-looking man on board ship, and he was the 
dullest man to talk to on board. No, Doctor, I won’t 
have any names mentioned, but I am right, am I 
not?” 

“He was a dull specimen, certainly,” the Doctor 
said, “ but I think you are a little too sweeping. ” 

“I don’t mean all good-looking men, of course, but 
men who what I call go in for being good-looking. I 
don’t know whether you know what I mean. What are 
you smiling at, Mr. Wilson?” 

“ I was thinking of two or three men I know to whom 
your description applies. Miss Hannay ; but I must be 
going, they are just going to start the next race, and 
mine is the one after, so I must go and get ready. 
You wish me success, don’t you?” 

“ I wish you all the success you deserve. I can’t say 
more than that, can I?” 

“ I am afraid that is saying very little,” he laughed. 
“ I don’t expect to win, but I do hope I shall beat Rich- 
ards, because he is so cock-sure he will beat me.” 

This wish was not gratified. The first and second 
horses made a close race of it ; behind them by ten or 
twelve lengths came the other horses in a clump, Wil- 
son and Richards singling themselves out in the last 
hundred yards and making a desperate race for the third 


88 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


place, for which they made a dead heat, amid great 
laughter from their comrades. 

“ That is excellent,” Major Hannay said; “ you won’t 
see anything more amusing than that to-day, girls. 
The third horse simply saved his stake, so that, as they 
will of course divide, they will have paid twenty-five 
rupees each for the pleasure of riding, and the point 
which of their tats is the fastest remains unsettled.” 

“ Well, they beat a good many of them. Major Han- 
nay,” Miss Hunter said, “so they did not do so badly 
after all.” 

“ Oh, no, they did not do so badly ; but it will be a 
long time before they get over the chaff about their 
desperate struggle for the third place.” 

The next two races attracted but slight attention 
from the occupants of the carriage. Most of their 
acquaintances in the station came up one after the 
other for a chat. There were many fresh introductions, 
and there was so much conversation and laughter that 
the girls had little time to attend to what was going on 
around them. Wilson and Richards both sauntered up 
after changing, and were the subject of much chaff as 
to their brilliant riding at the finish. Both were firm 
in the belief that the judge’s finding was wrong, and 
each maintained stoutly he had beaten the other by a 
good head. 

The race for Arabs turned out a very exciting one ; 
the Rajah of Bithoor’s horse was the favorite on the 
strength of its performances elsewhere; but Prothero’s 
horse was also well supported, especially in the regi- 
ment, for the Adjutant was a well-known rider and was 
in great request at all the principal places in Oude and 
the northwest Provinces, while it was known that the 
Rajah’s horse would be ridden by a native. The latter 
was dressed in strict racing costume, and had at the 
last races at Cawnpore won two or three cups for the 
Rajah. 

But the general opinion among the officers of the 
station was that Prothero’s coolness and nerve would 
tell. His Arab was certainly a fast one, and had won 
the previous year, both at Cawnpore and Lucknow ; but 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


89 

the Rajah’s new purchase had gained so high a reputa- 
tion in the western presidency as fully to justify the 
odds of two to one laid on it, while four to one were 
offered against Prothero, and from eight to twenty to 
one against any other competitor. 

Prothero had stopped to have a chat at the Hunters’ 
carriage as he walked toward the dressing-tent. 

“ Our hopes are all centred in you, Mr. Prothero, ” 
Mr. Hunter said. “ Miss Hannay has been wagering 
gloves in a frightfully reckless way. ” 

“ I should advise you to hedge if you can. Miss Han- 
nay,” he said. “ I think there is no doubt the Mame- 
luke is a good deal faster than Seila. I fancy he is 
pounds better. I only beat Vincent’s horses by a head 
last year, and Mameluke gave him seven pounds, and 
beat him by three lengths at Poona. So I should 
strongly advise you to hedge your bets if you can. ” 

“ What does he mean by hedge, uncle?” 

“ To hedge is to bet the other way, so that one bet 
cancels the other.” 

“Oh, I shan’t do that,” she said; “ I have enough 
money to pay my bets if I lose.” 

“ Do you mean to say you mean to pay your bets if 
you lose. Miss Hannay?” the Doctor asked, incredu- 
lously. 

“Of course I do,” she said indignantly. “You don’t 
suppose I intend to take the gloves if I win, and not to 
pay if I lose?” 

“ It is not altogether an uncommon practice among 
ladies,” the Doctor said, “ when they bet against gentle- 
men. I believe that when they wager against each 
other, which they do not often do, they are strictly 
honest, but that otherwise their memories are apt to 
fail them altogether.” 

“ That is a libel, Mrs. Hunter, is it not?” 

“ Not altogether, I think ; of course many ladies do pay 
their bets when they lose, but others certainly do not.” 

“Then I call it very mean,” Isobel said earnestly. 
“ Why, it is as bad as asking any one to make you a 
present of so many pairs of gloves in case a certain 
horse wins,” 


90 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ It comes a good deal to the same thing, ” Mrs. Hunter 
admitted, “ but to a certain extent it is a recognized sort 
of thing ; it is a sort of tribute that is exacted at race 
time, just as in France every lady expects a present 
from every gentleman of her acquaintance on New 
Year’s Day.” 

“ I wouldn’t bet if I didn’t mean to pay honestly,” 
Isobel said. “And if Mr. Prothero doesn’t win, my 
debts will all be honorably discharged. ” 

There was a hush of expectation in the crowd when 
the ten horses whose numbers were up went down to 
the starting-point, a quarter of a mile from the stand. 
They were to pass it, make the circuit, and finish there, 
the race being two miles. The interest of the natives 
was enlisted by the fact that Nana Sahib was running 
a horse, while the . hopes of the occupants of the en- 
closure rested principally on Seila. 

The flag fell to a good start; but when the horses 
came along Isobel saw with surprise that the dark blue 
of the Rajah and the Adjutant’s scarlet and white were 
both in the rear of the group. Soon afterward the 
scarlet seemed to be making its way through the 
horses, and was speedily leading them. 

“ Prothero is making the running with a vengeance,” 
the Major said. “That is not like his usual tactics. 
Doctor.” 

“ I fancy he knows what he is doing,” the Doctor re- 
plied. “ He saw that Mameluke’s rider was going to 
make awaiting race of it, and as the horse has certainly 
the turn of speed on him, he is trying other tactics. 
They are passing the mile post now, and Prothero is 
twelve or fourteen lengths ahead. There, Mameluke 
is going through his horses; his rider is beginning to 
get nervous at the lead Prothero has got, and he can’t 
stand it any longer. He ought to have waited for an- 
other half-mile. You will see, Prothero will win after 
all. Seila can stay, there is no doubt about that.” 

A roar of satisfaction rose from the mass of natives 
on the other side of the enclosure as Mameluke was 
seen to leave the group of horses and gradually to gain 
upon Seila, 


IN THE DAYS OB' THE MUTINY. 


91 


“Oh, he will catch him, uncle!” Isobel said, tearing 
her handkerchief in her excitement. 

The Major was watching the horses through his field- 
glass. 

“Nevermind his catching him,” he said; “ Froth ero 
is riding quietly and steadily. Seila is doing nearly 
her best, but he is not hurrying her, while the fool on 
Mameluke is bustling the horse as if he had only a 
hundred yards further to go.” 

The horses were nearing the point at which they had 
started, when a shout from the crowd proclaimed that 
the blue jacket had come up to and passed the scarlet. 
Slowly it forged ahead until it was two lengths in ad- 
vance ; for a few strides their relative positions remained 
unaltered, then there was a shout from the carriages: 
scarlet was coming up again. Mameluke’s rider 
glanced over his shoulder, and began to use the whip. 
For a few strides the horse widened the gap again, but 
Froth ero still sat quiet and unmoved. Just as they 
reached the end of the line of carriages, Seila again 
began to close up. 

“Seila wins!” “Seila wins!” the officers shouted. 

But it seemed to Isobel that this was well-nigh im- 
possible, but foot by foot the mare came up, and as they 
passed the Hunters’ carriage her head was in advance, 
in spite of the desperate efforts of the rider of Mame- 
luke. Another hundred yards and they passed the 
winning post, Seila a length ahead. 


CHAFTER VII. 

The exultation of the officers of the 103d over Seila’s 
victory was great. They had all backed her, relying 
upon Frothero’s riding, but although his success was 
generally popular among the Europeans at the station, 
many had lost considerable sums by their confidence in 
Mameluke’s speed. 

Isobel sat down feeling quite faint from th^ excite- 
ment, 


92 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ I did not think I could have been so excited over a 
race between two horses,” she said to Mrs. Hunter. “ It 
was not the bets, I never even thought about them, it 
was just because I wanted to see Mr. Prothero’s horse 
win. I never understood before why people should take 
such an interest in horse-racing, but I quite understand 
now.” 

“ What is your size. Miss Hannay?” Wilson asked. 

“ Oh, I don’t care anything about the gloves, Mr. 
Wilson; I am sorry I bet now.” 

“You needn’t feel any compunction in taking them 
from me or from any of us. Miss Hannay, we have all 
won over Seila; the regiment will have to give a ball on 
the strength of it. I only put on a hundred rupees and 
so have won four hundred, but most of them have won 
ever so much more than that, and all I have lost is four 
pair of gloves to you, and four to Mrs. Doolan, and 
four to Mrs. Prothero, a dozen in all. Which do you 
take, white or cream, and what is your size?” 

“ Six and a quarter, cream.” 

“ All right. Miss Hannay. The Nana must have lost 
a good lot of money; he has been backing his horse 
with every one who would lay against it. However, 
it won’t make any difference to him, and it is always a 
satisfaction when the loss comes on some one to whom 
it doesn’t matter a bit. I think the regiment ought to 
give a dinner to Prothero, Major, it was entirely his 
riding that did it; he hustled that nigger on Mameluke 
splendidly. If the fellow had waited till within half a 
mile of home he would have won to a certainty ; I never 
saw anything better.” 

“ Well, Miss Hannay, what do you think of a horse 
race?” Bathurst, who had only remained a few minutes 
at the carriage, asked as he strolled up again. “ You 
said yesterday that you had never seen one.” 

“ I am a little ashamed to say I was very much ex- 
cited over it, Mr. Bathurst. You have not lost, I hope? 
You are looking ” and she stopped. 

“Shaky?” he said. “Yes, I feel shaky. I had not 
a penny on the race, for though the Doctor made me put 
into a sweep last night at the club, I drew d, blank ; but 


IN THE HAVS OF THE MUTINY. 93 

the shouting and excitement at the finish seemed to 
take my breath away, and I felt quite faint. ” 

“That is just how I felt; I did not know men felt 
like that. They don’t generally seem to know what 
nerves are.” 

“ I wish I didn’t; it is a great nuisance. The Doctor 
tries to persiiade me that it is the effect of overwork, but 
I have always been so from a child, and I can’t get 
over it.” 

“You don’t look nervous, Mr. Bathurst.” 

“ No, when a man is a fair size, and looks bronzed 
and healthy, no one will give him credit for being 
nervous. I would give a very great deal if I could get 
over it.” 

“ I don’t see that it matters much one way or the 
other, Mr. Bathurst.” 

“ I can assure you that it does. I regard it as being 
a most serious misfortune.” 

Isobel was a little surprised at the earnestness with 
which he spoke. 

“I should not have thought that,” she said quietly, 
“ but I can understand that it is disagreeable for a man 
to feel nervous, simply, I suppose, because it is sup- 
posed to be a feminine quality, but I think a good many 
men are nervous. We had several entertainments on 
board the ship coming out, and it was funny to see how 
many great, strong men broke down, especially those 
who had to make speeches.” 

“ I am not nervous in that way,” Bathurst said, with a 
laugh. “My pet horror is noise; thunder prostrates 
me completely, and in fact all noises, especially any 
sharp, sudden sound, affect me. I really find it a great 
nuisance. I fancy a woman with nerves considers her- 
self as a martyr, and deserving of all pity and sympathy. 
It is almost a fashionable complaint, and she is a little 
proud of it, but a man ought to have his nerves in good 
order, and as much as that is expected of him unless he 
is a feeble little body. There is the bell for the next 
race. ” 

“ Are you going to bet on this race again, Miss Han- 
nay?” Wilson said, coming up. 


94 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ No, Mr. Wilson. I have done my first and last bit 
of gambling. I don’t think it is nice ladies betting 
after all, and if there were a hospital here I should 
order you to send the money the gloves will cost you to 
it as conscience money, and then perhaps you might fol- 
low my example with your winnings.” 

“ My conscience is not moved in any way, ” he laughed ; 
“when it is I will look out for a deserving charity. 
Well, if you won’t bet I must see if I can make a small 
investment somewhere else. ” 

“I shall see you at the ball, of course?” Isobel said, 
turning to Mr. Bathurst as Wilson left the carriage. 

“No, I think not. Balls are altogether out of my 
line, and as there is always a superabundance of men 
at such affairs here, there is no sense of duty about it. ” 
“What is your line, Mr. Bathurst?” 

“ I am afraid I have none. Miss Hannay. The fact 
is, there is really more work to be done than one can 
get through. When you get to know the natives well 
you cannot help liking them and longing to do them 
some good if they would but let you, but it is so difficult 
to get them to take up new ideas. Their religion, with 
all its customs and ceremonies, seems designed ex- 
pressly to bar out all improvement. Except in the case 
of abolishing Suttee, we have scarcely weaned them 
from one of their observances, and even now, in spite 
of our efforts, widows occasionally immolate themselves, 
and that with the general approval. 

“ I wish I had an army of ten thousand English ladies, 
all speaking the language well, to go about among the 
women and make friends with them ; there would be 
more good done in that way than by all the officials in 
India. They might not be able to emancipate them- 
selves from all their restrictions, but they might in- 
fluence their children, and in time pave the way for a 
moral revolution. But it is ridiculous,” he said, 
breaking off suddenly, “my talking like this here, but 
you see it is what you call my line, my hobby, if you 
like; but when one sees this hard-working, patient, 
gentle people making their lot so much harder than it 
need be by their customs and observances, one longs to 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 95 

force them even against their own will to burst their 
bonds.” 

Doctor Wade came up at this moment and caught the 
last word or two. 

“ You are incorrigible, Bathurst. Miss Hannay, I 
warn you that this man is a monomaniac. I drag him 
away from his work, and here he is discoursing with 
you on reform just as a race is going to start. You 
may imagine, my dear, what a thorn he is in the side of 
the big- wigs. You have heard of Talleyrand’s advice 
to a young official , ‘ Above all things no zeal. ’ Go away, 
Bathurst ; Miss Hannay wants to see the race, and even 
if she doesn’t she is powerless' to assist you in your 
crusade. ” 

Bathurst laughed and drew off. . 

“ That is too bad, Doctor. I was very interested. I 
like to talk to people who can think of something besides 
races and balls, and the gossip of the station.” 

“ Yes, in reason, in reason, my dear, but there is a me- 
dium in all things. I have no doubt Bathurst will be 
quite happy some time or other to give you his full views 
on child marriages, and the re-marriages of widows, and 
female education, and the land settlement, and a score of 
other questions, but for this a few weeks of perfect 
leisure will be required. Seriously, you know that I 
think Bathurst one of the finest young fellows in the 
service, but his very earnestness injures both his pros- 
pects and his utility; the officials have a horror of en- 
thusiasm — they like the cut and dried subordinate who 
does his duty conscientiously and does not trouble his 
head about anything but carrying out the regulations 
laid down for him. 

“ Theoretically I agree with most of Bathurst’s views, 
practically I see that a score of officials like him would 
excite are volution throughout a whole province. In 
India, of all places in the world, the maxim festina lente 
— go slow — is applicable. You have the prejudices of 
a couple of thousand years against change. The peo- 
ple of all things are jealous of the slightest appearance 
of interference with their customs. The change will 
no doubt come in time, but it must come graduall)". 


96 IN THt DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

and must be the work of the natives themselves and not 
of us. To try to hasten that time would be but to defer 
it. Now, child, there is the bell; now just attend to 
the business in hand. ” 

“ Very well. Doctor, I will obey your orders, but it is 
only fair to say that Mr. Bathurst’s remarks are only in 
answer to something I said,” and Isobel turned to watch 
the race, but with an interest less ardent than she had 
before felt. 

Isobel ’s character was an essentially earnest one, and 
her life up to the day of her departure to India had 
been one of few pleasures. She had enjoyed the change 
and had entered heartily into it, and she was as yet by no 
means tired of it ; but she had upon her arrival at Cawn- 
pore been a little disappointed that there was no def- 
inite work for her to perform, and had already begun to 
feel that a time would come when she would want some- 
thing more than gossip and amusements and the light 
talk of the officers of her acquaintance to fill her life. 

She had as yet no distinct interest of her own, and 
Bathurst’s earnestness had struck a chord in her own 
nature and seemed to open a wide area for thought. 
She put it aside now and chatted gayly wfith the Hun- 
ters and those who came up to the carriage, but it came 
back to her as she sat in her room before going to 
bed. 

Up till now she had not heard a remark since she had 
been in Cawnpore that might not have been spoken had 
the cantonments there been the whole of India, except 
that persons at other stations were mentioned. The 
vast, seething native population were no more alluded 
to than if they were a world apart. Bathurst’s words 
had for the first time brought home to her the reality 
of their existence, and that around this little group of 
English men and women lay a vast population with 
their joys and sorrows and sufferings. 

At breakfast she surprised Mrs. Hunter by asking a 
variety of questions as to native customs. 

“ I suppose you have often been in the Zenanas, Mrs. 
Hunter?” 

“ Not often, my dear. I have been in some of them. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 


97 


and very depressing it is to see how childish and igno- 
rant the women are. " 

“ Can nothing be done for them, Mrs. Hunter?” 

“Very little. In time I suppose there will be schools 
for girls, but you see they marry so young that it is 
difficult to get at them.” 

“ How young do they marry?” 

“ They are betrothed, although it has all the force of 
a marriage, as infants, and a girl can be a widow at 
two or three years old ; and so, poor little thing, she 
remains to the end of her life in a position little better 
than that of a servant in her husband’s family. Really 
they are married at ten or eleven.” 

Isobel looked amazed at this her first insight into 
native life. Mrs. Hunter smiled. 

“ I heard Mr. Bathurst saying something to you about 
it yesterday. Miss Hannay. He is an enthusiast; we 
like him very much, but we don’t see much of him.” 

“You must beware of him. Miss Hannay,” Mr. 
Hunter said, “or he will inoculate you with some of 
his fads. I do not say that he is not right, but he sees 
the immensity of the need for change, Wt does not see 
fully the immensity of the difficulty in bringing it 
about.” 

“There is no fear of his inoculating me; that is to 
say, of setting me to work, for what could one woman 
do?” 

“ Nothing, my dear, ” her uncle said ; “ if all the white 
women in India threw themselves into the work, they 
could do little. The natives are too jealous of what 
they consider intruders; the Parsees are about the only 
progressive people. While ladies are welcome enough 
when they pay a visit of ceremony to the Zenana of a 
native, if they were to try to teach their wives to be 
discontented with their lots — for that is what it would 
be — they would be no longer welcome. Schools are 
being established, but at present these are but a drop 
in the ocean. Still, the work does go on, and in time 
something will be done. It is of no use bothering 
yourself about it, Isobel, it is best to take matters as 
you find them.” 

7 


98 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Isobei made no answer, but she was much disap- 
pointed when Doctor Wade, dropping in to tiffin, said 
his guest had started two hours before for Deennugghur. 
He had a batch of letters and reports from his native 
clerk, and there was something or other that he said he 
must see to at once. 

“ He begged me to say, Major, that he was very sorry 
to go off without saying good-b)’, but he hoped to be 
in Cawnpore before long. I own that that part of the 
message astonished me, knowing as I do what difficulty 
there is in getting him out of his shell. He and I be- 
came great chums when I was over at Deennugghur 
two years ago, and the young fellow is not given to 
making friends. However, as he is not the man to say 
a thing without meaning it, I suppose he intends to 
come over again. He knows there is always a bed for 
him in my place. ” 

“We see very little of him,” Mary Hunter said, “he 
is always away on horseback all day. Sometimes he 
comes in the evening when we are quite alone, but he 
will never stay long. He always excuses himself on 
the ground that he has a report to write or something 
of that sort. Amy and I call him ‘Timon of Athens. ’ ” 

“There is nothing of Timon about him,” the Doctor 
remarked dogmatically. “ That is the way with you 
5’oung ladies — you think that a man’s first business in 
life is to be dancing attendance. Bathurst looks at life 
seriously, and no wonder, going about as he does among 
the natives and listening to their stories and complaints. 
He puts his hand to the plough, and does not turn to 
the right or left.” 

“Still, Doctor, you must allow,” Mrs. Hunter said 
gravely, “that Mr. Bathurst is not like most other 
men.” 

“Certainly not,” the Doctor remarked. “He takes 
no interest in sport of any kind, he does not care for 
society; he very rarely goes to the club, and never 
touches a card when he does, and yet he is the sort of 
man one would think would throw himself into what is 
going on. He is a strong, active, healthy man, whom 
one would expect to excel in all sorts of sports; he is 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


99 


certainly good-looking; he talks extremely well and is, 
I should say, very well read and intelligent.” 

“He can be very amusing when he likes. Doctor. 
Once or twice when he has been with us he has seemed 
to forget himself, as it were, and was full of fun and 
' life. You must allow that it is a little singular that a 
man like this should altogether avoid society, and night 
and day be absorbed in his work. ” 

“ I have thought sometimes,” Mr. Hunter said, “that 
Bathurst must have had some great trouble in his life. 
Of what nature I can, of course, form no idea. He was 
little more than twenty when he came out here, so I 
should say that it was hardly a love affair.” 

“ That is always the way. Hunter. If a man goes his 
own way, and that way does not happen to be the way 
of the mass, it is supposed that he must have had 
trouble of some sort. As Bathurst is the son of a dis- 
tinguished soldier, and is now the owner of a fine prop- 
erty at home, I don’t see what trouble he can have had. 
He may possibly, for anything I know, have had some 
boyish love affairs, but I don’t think he is the sort of 
man to allow his whole life to be affected by any fool- 
ery of that sort. He is simply an enthusiast. 

“ It is good for mankind that there should be some 
enthusiasts. I grant that it would be an unpleasant 
world if we were all enthusiasts, but the sight of a man 
like him throwing his whole life and energy into his 
work and wearing himself out trying to lessen the evils 
he sees around him, ought to do good to us all. Look 
at these boys,” and he apostrophized Wilson and Rich- 
ards, as they appeared together at the door. “ What 
do they think of but amusing themselves and shirking 
their duties as far as possible?” 

“Oh, I say. Doctor,” Wilson exclaimed, astonished 
at this sudden attack, “what are you pitching into us 
like that for? That is not fair, is it. Major? We amuse 
ourselves, of course, when there is nothing else to do, 
but I am sure we don’t shirk our work. You don’t 
want us to spend our spare time in reading Greek, I 
suppose?” 

“ No, but you might spend some of it very profitably 


100 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


in learning' some of these native languages,” the Doc- 
tor said. “ I don’t believe that you know above a dozen 
native words now. You can shout for brandy and 
water, and for a light for your cigars, but I fancy that 
that is about the extent of it.” 

“ We are going to have a moonshee next week, Doc- j 
tor,” Wilson said, a little crestfallen, “and a horrid 
nuisance it will be.” 

“ That is only because you are obliged to pass in the 
vernacular, Wilson. So you need not take any credit 
to yourself on that account.” 

“ Doctor, you are in one of your worst possible tem- 
pers this morning,” Isobel said. “You snap at us all 
round. You are quite intolerable this morning.” 

“ I am rather put out by Bathurst running away in 
this fashion. Miss Hanna)^ I had made up my mind 
that he would stop three or four days longer, and it is 
pleasant to have some one who can talk and think about 
something besides horses and balls. But I will go away. 

I don’t want to be the disturbing element, and I have 
no doubt that Richards is burning to tell you the odds 
on some of the horses to-day.” 

“ Shall we see you on the race-course. Doctor?” the 
Major asked, as the Doctor moved toward the door. 

“ You will not. Major, one day is enough for me. If 
they would get up a donkey race confined strictly to 
the subalterns of the station, I might take the trouble 
to go and look at it. ” 

“The Doctor is in great form to-day,” Wilson said 
good-temperedly, after the laugh which followed the 
Doctor’s exit had subsided, “ and I am sure we did 
nothing to provoke him.” 

“You got into his line of fire, Wilson,” the Major 
said; “he is explosive this morning, and has been giv- 
ing it to us all around. However, nobody minds what 
the Doctor says; his bark is very bad but he has no 
bite. Wait till you are down with the fever and you 
will find him devote himself to you as if he were your 
father.” 

“ He is one of the kindest men in the world,” Isobel 
agreed warmly, thereby effectually silencing Richards, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 


lOI 


who had just pulled up his shirt-collar preparatory to 
a sarcastic utterance respecting him. 

Isobel, indeed, was in full sympathy with the Doc- 
tor, for she, too, was disappointed at Bathurst’s sudden 
departure. She had looked forward to learning a good 
deal from him about the native customs and ways, and 
had intended to have a long talk with him. She was 
perhaps, too, more interested generally in the man him- 
self than she would have been willing to admit. 

That evening the party went to an entertainment at 
Bithoor. Isobel and the girls were delighted with the 
illuminations of the gardens and with the Palace itself, 
with its mixture of Eastern splendor and European 
luxury. But Isobel did not altogether enjoy the even- 
ing. 

“ I suppose I ought to congratulate you on your suc- 
cess last iiight, Isobel,” Doctor Wade said when he 
dropped in after breakfast. “ Every one has been tell- 
ing me that the Rajah paid you the greatest attention, 
and that there is the fiercest gnashing of teeth among 
what must now be called the ex-queens of the station.” 

“ I don’t know who told you such nonsense. Doctor,” 
Isobel replied hotly. “The Rajah quite spoilt the 
evening for me. I have been telling Mrs. Hunter so. 
If we had not been in his own house, I should have told 
him that I should enjoy the evening very much more 
if he would leave me alone and let me go about and 
look quietly at the place and the gardens, which are 
really beautiful. No doubt he is pleasant enough, and 
I suppose I ought to have felt flattered at his walking 
about with me and so on, but I am sure I did not. 
What pleasure does he suppose an English girl can 
have in listening to elaborate compliments from a man 
as yellow as a guinea?” 

“Think of his wealth, my dear.” 

“ What difference does his wealth make?” Isobel said. 
“As far as I have seen I do not think that rich English- 
men are more amusing than others, and if he had all the 
wealth of India that would not improve Nana Sahib 
in my eyes. There are women, of course, who do think 
a great deal about money, and who will even marry 


102 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


men for it, but even women who would do that could 
not, I should think, care anything about the wealth of 
a Hindoo they cannot marry.” 

“Not directly, my dear,” Mrs. Hunter said, “but 
people may be flattered with the notice and admiration 
of a person of importance and great wealth, even if he 
is a Hindoo.” 

“Besides,” the Doctor put in, “the Rajah is consid- 
ered to be a great connoisseur of English beauty, and 
has frequently expressed his deep regret that his re- 
ligion prevented his marrying an English lady.” 

“ I should be very sorry for the English girl who 
would marry him, religion or not. ” 

“ I think you are rather hard upon the Nana, Isobel,” 
the Major said. “ He is a general favorite; he is open- 
handed and liberal; very fond of entertaining; a great 
admirer of us as a nation. He is a wonderfully well- 
read man for a Hindoo; can talk upon almost every 
subject, and is really a pleasant fellow.” 

“ I don’t like him; I don’t like him at all,” Isobel 
said positively. 

“ Ah, that is only because you thought he made you 
a little more conspicuous than you liked by his atten- 
tions to you, Isobel.” 

“No, indeed, uncle; that was very silly and ridicu- 
lous, but I did not like the man himself, putting that 
aside altogether. It was like talking to a man with a 
mask on; it gave me a creepy feeling. It did not seem 
to me that one single word he said was sincere, but 
that he was acting, and over and over again as he was 
talking I said to myself, ‘What is this man really like? 
I know he is not the least bit in the world what he pre- 
tends to be. But what is the reality?’ I felt just the 
same as I should if I had one of those great snakes they 
bring to our veranda coiling round me. The creature 
might look quiet enough, but I should know that if it 
were to tighten it would crush me in a moment.” 

The Major and Mrs. Hunter both laughed at her 
earnestness, but the Doctor said gravely : “ Is that really 
how you felt about him when he was talking to you. 
Miss Hannay? I am sorry to hear you say that. I own 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 103 

that my opinion has been that of every one here, that 
the Rajah is a good fellow and a firm friend of the 
Europeans, and my only doubt has arisen from the fact 
that it was unnatural he should like us when he has 
considerable grounds for grievance against us. We 
have always relied upon his influence, which is great 
among his countrymen, being thrown entirely into the 
scale on our side if any trouble should ever arise; but. 
I own that what you say makes me doubt him. I would 
always take the opinion of a dog or a child about any 
one in preference to my own.” 

“You are not very complimentary. Doctor,” Isobel 
laughed. 

“ Well,- my dear, a young girl who has not mixed 
much in the world and had her instincts blunted, is in 
that respect very much like a child. She may be de- 
ceived, and constantly is deceived, when her heart is 
concerned, and is liable to be taken in by any plausible 
scoundrel, but where her heart is not concerned her 
instincts are true. When I see children and dogs stick 
to a man I am convinced that he is all right, though I 
may not personally have taken to him. When I see a 
dog put his tail between his legs and decline to accept 
the advances of a man, and when I see children slip 
away from him as soon as they can, I distrust him at 
once, however pleasant a fellow he may be. As the 
Rajah, from all I heard, certainly laid himself out to 
be agreeable to you last night, and yet in spite of that 
you felt as you say you did about him, I am bound to 
say that, without at once admitting that my impressions 
about him were wrong, I consider that there is good 
ground fdr thinking the matter over again.” 

“What nonsense, -Doctor!” the Major laughed. 
“ Every one here has known the Rajah for years. He is a 
most popular man, every one likes him, among the 
ladies especially he is a great favorite. It is ridiculous 
to suggest that everyone should have been wrong about 
him, merely because Isobel takes a prejudice against 
him] and that, as far as I can see, is simply because his 
admiration for her was somewhat marked.” 

Isobel gave a little shudder. “ Don’t talk about ad- 


104 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


miration, uncle, that is not the word for it; I don’t 
know what it was like. They say snakes fascinate 
birds before they eat them by fixing their eyes upon 
them. I should say it was something of that sort of 
look.” 

“ Well, my dear, he is not going to eat you, that is 
certain,” the Major said, “ and I can assure you that his 
approbation goes for a great deal here, and that after 
this you will go up several pegs in Cawnpore society. ” 

Isobel tossed her head. 

“Then I am sorry for Cawnpore society; it is a 
matter of entire indifference to me whether I go up or 
down in its opinion. ” 

A fortnight later the Nana gave another entertain- 
ment. A good deal to her uncle’s vexation Isobel re- 
fused to go when the time came. 

“ But what am I to say, my dear?” he asked in some 
perplexity. 

“You can say anything you like, uncle; you can say 
that I am feeling the heat and have got a bad headache, 
which is true; or you can say that I don’t care for 
gayety, which is also true. I shall be very much more 
comfortable and happy at home by myself. ” 

The Hunters had by this time returned to Deennug- 
ghur and the Major drove over to Bithoor accompanied 
only by Doctor Wade. He was rather surprised when 
the Doctor said he would go, as it was very seldom that 
he went out to such entertainments. 

“ I am not going to amuse myself. Major, I want to 
have a good look at the Nana again; I am not comfort- 
able since Isobel gave usher opinion of him. He is an 
important personage, and if there is any truth in these 
rumors about disaffection among the Sepoys, his friend- 
ship may be of the greatest assistance to us.” 

So the Doctor was with Major Hannay when the lat- 
ter made his excuses for Isobel’ s absence on the ground 
that she was not feeling very well. 

The Nana expressed great regret at the news, and 
said that with the Major’s permission he would call in 
the morning to inquire after Miss Hannay ’s health. 

“ He did not like it,” the Doctor said, when they had 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


105 

Strolled away together. “ He was very civil and polite, 
but I could see that he was savage. I fancy he got up 
this fete principally in her honor. It is not often he 
has two so close together. ” 

“ Oh, that is nonsense. Doctor. ” 

‘‘I don’t think so. He has done the same sort of 
thing several times before, when he has been specially 
taken by some fresh face from England. ” 

Others besides the Doctor remarked that the Rajah 
was not quite himself that evening. He was courteous 
and polite to his guests, but he was irritable with his 
own people, and something had evidently gone wrong 
with him. 

The next day he called at the Major’s. The latter 
had not told Isobel of his intention, for he guessed that 
had he done so she would have gone across to Mrs. 
Doolan or one of her lady friends, and she was sitting 
in the veranda with him and young Wilson when the 
carriage drove up. 

“ I was so sorry to hear that you were unwell. Miss 
Hannay,” the Nana said courteously. “ It was a great 
disappointment to me that you were unable to accom- 
pany your uncle last night. ” 

“I have been feeling the heat the last few days,” 
Isobel said quietly, “ and, indeed, I do not care much 
about going out in such hot weather as this. I have not 
been accustomed to much society in England, and the 
crowd and the heat and the lights make my head ache. ” 
“You look the picture of health. Miss Hannay, but I 
know that it is trying for English women when they 
first come into our climate; it is always a great pleasure 
to me to receive English ladies at Bithoor. I hope 
upon the next occasion you will be able to come.” 

“I am much obliged to your Highness,” she said, 

“ but it would be a truer kindness to let me stay quietly 
at home.” 

“ But that is selfish of you. Miss Hannay. You 
should think a little of the pleasure of others as well as 
your own.” 

“ I am not conceited enough to suppose that it could 
make any difference to other people’s pleasure whether 


Io6 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

I am at a party or not,” Isobel said. “I suppose you 
mean that as a compliment, Rajah, but I am not ac- 
customed to compliments, and don’t like them.” 

“ You will have to learn to become accustomed to com- 
pliments, Miss Hannay,” the Rajah said, with a smile, 
and then turning to the Doctor began to tell him of a 
tiger that had been doing a great deal of harm at a 
village some thirty miles away, and offered to send 
some elephants over to organize a hunt for him if he 
liked, an invitation that the Doctor promptly accepted. 

The visit was but a short one. The Rajah soon took 
his leave. 

“You are wrong altogether, Isobel,” the Doctor said. 
“ I have returned to my conviction that the Rajah is a 
first-rate fellow.” 

“ That is just because he offered you some shooting. 
Doctor,” Isobel said indignantly. “ I thought better of 
you than to suppose that you could be bought over so 
easily as that.” 

“She had you there, Doctor,” the Major laughed. 
“ However, I am glad that you will no longer be back- 
ing her in her fancies. ” 

“ Why did you accept his invitation for us to go over 
and lunch there, uncle?” Isobel asked idignantly. 

“ Because there was no reason in the world wh)^ we 
should refuse, my dear. He very often has luncheon 
parties, and after that he will show you over the place, 
and exhibit his jewels and curiosities. He said there 
would be other ladies there, and I have no doubt we 
shall have a very pleasant day.” 

Even Isobel was obliged to confess that the visit was 
a pleasant one. The Nana had asked Mrs. Cromarty, 
her daughters, and most of the other ladies of the regi- 
ment, with their husbands. The lunch was a banquet, 
and after it was over the parties were taken round the 
Palace, paid a visit to the Zenana, inspected the gardens 
and stables, and were driven through the park. The 
Nana saw that Isobel objected to be particularly noticed, 
and had the tact to make his attentions so general that 
even she could find no fault with him. 

On the drive back she admitted to her uncle that she 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


107 


had enjoyed her visit very much, and that the Rajah’s 
manners were those of a perfect gentleman. 

“But mind, uncle,” she said, “I do not retract my 
opinion. What the Rajah really is I don’t pretend to 
know, but I am quite sure that the character of a smil- 
ing host is not his real one, and that for some reason or 
other he is simply playing a part. ” 

“ I had no idea that you were such a prejudiced little 
woman,” the Major said, somewhat vexed, “but as it 
is no use arguing with you we had better drop the sub- 
ject.” 

For the next month Cawnpore suffered a little from 
the reaction after the gayety of the races, but there was 
no lack of topics of conversation, for the rumors of dis- 
affection among the troops gained in strength, and al- 
though nothing positive was known, and every one 
scoffed at the notion of any serious trouble, the subject 
was so important a one that little else was talked of 
whenever parties of the ladies got together. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“I HAVE some bad news, Isobel. At least I suppose 
you will consider it bad news,” the Major said one 
morning when he returned from the orderly room. 
“ You heard me say that four companies were going to 
relieve those at Deennugghur. Well, I am going with 
them. It seems that the General is of opinion that in 
the present unsettled state of affairs there ought to be a 
field-officer in command there, so I have to go. For 
myself I don’t mind, but you will find it dull in a small 
station like that, after the gayeties of Cawnpore.” 

“I don’t mind a bit, uncle, in that respect. I don’t 
think I care much for gayeties, but^of course the move 
will be a trouble. We have everything so nice here, it 
will be horrid having to leave it all. How long will it 
be for?” 

“ Six months, in the ordinary state of things, though 
of course something may occur to bring us in before 
that. Still, the change won’t be as much trouble as you 


io8 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 


fancy. When we get there you can stay for two or 
three days with the Hunters till we have got the things 
to rights. There is one thing that you will be pleased 
about. Wade is going with us, at any rate for the 
present; you are a favorite of his, you know; and I 
think that is the principal reason for his going. At any 
rate, when he heard that I was going he told the Colo- 
nel that, as there was no illness in the regiment, he 
thought that if he did not object he would change 
places for a bit with McAlaster, the assistant surgeon, 
who has been with the detachment at Dennugghur for 
the last year, so as to give him a turn of duty at Cawn- 
pore, and to a little shikaring himself; there is more 
jungle and better shooting round Deennugghur than 
there is here, and you know the Doctor is an enthusiast, 
that way. Of course the Colonel agreed.” 

“I am very glad of that, uncle; it won’t seem like 
going to a strange place if we have him with us, and 
the Hunters there, and I suppose three or four officers 
of the regiment. Who are going?” 

“Both your boys,” the Major laughed, “and Doolan 
and Rintoul,” 

“When do we go, uncle?” 

“ Next Monday. I shall get somebody to put us up 
here from Friday, and that morning we will get every- 
thing dismantled here, and send them off by bullock 
carts with the servants to Deennugghur, so that they 
will be there by Monday morning. I will write to 
Hunter to pick us out the best of the empty bungalows, 
ahd see that our fellows get to work to clean the place 
up, as soon as they arrive. We shall be two days on 
the march, and things will be pretty forward by the 
time we get there.” 

“And where shall we sleep on the march?” 

“ In tents, my dear, and very comfortable you will 
find them. Rumzan will go with us, and you will find 
everything go on as smoothly as if you were here. 
Tent life in India is very pleasant. Next year, in the 
cool season, we will do an excursion somewhere, and I 
am sure you will find it delightful; they don’t know 
anything about the capabilities of tents at home.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


109 

“ Then do I quite understand, uncle, that all I have 
got to do is to make a round of calls to say good-by to 
every one?” 

That is all. You will find a lot of my cards in one 
of those pigeon-holes, you may as well drop one wher- 
ever you go. Shall I order a carriage from Framiee’s 
for to-day?” 

“No, I think not, uncle; I will go round to our own 
bungalo\vs first, and hear what Mrs. Doolan and the 
others think about it.” 

At Mrs. Doolan ’s Isobel found quite an assembly. 
Mrs. Rintoul had come in almost in tears, and the two 
young lieutenants had dropped in with Captain Doolan, 
while one or two other officers had come round to com- 
miserate with Mrs. Doolan. 

“Another victim,” the latter said as Isobel entered. 
“You look too cheerful, Miss Hannay. I find that we 
are expected to wear sad countenances at our approach- 
ing banishment.” 

“ Are we, Mrs. Doolan? It seems to me that it won’t 
make very much difference to us. ” 

“Not make any difference. Miss Hannay!” Captain 
Doolan said. “Why, Deennugghur is one of the dull- 
est little stations on this side of India.” 

“ What do you mean by dull. Captain Doolan?” 

“ Why, there are only about six white residents there 
besides the troops. Of course, as four companies are 
going instead of one, it will make a difference; but 
there will be no gayety, no excitement, and really noth- 
ing to do.” 

“ As for the gayety, I am sure I shall not regret it. 
Captain Doolan ; besides, our gayeties are pretty well 
over, except, of course, dinner parties, and it is getting 
very hot for them. We shall get off having to go out 
in the heat of the day to make calls, which seem to me 
terrible afflictions, and I think with a small party it 
ought to be very sociable and pleasant. As for excite- 
ment, I hear that there is much better shooting there 
than there is here. Mrs. Hunter was telling me that 
they have had some tigers that have been very trouble- 
some round there, and you will all have an opportunity 


no 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


of distinguishing yourselves. I know that Mr. Richards 
and Mr. Wilson are burning to distinguish themselves. ” 

“It would be great fun to shoot a tiger,” Richards 
said. “ When I came out to India I thought there was 
going to be lots of tiger shooting, and I bought a rifle 
on purpose, but I have never had a chance yet. Yes, 
we will certainly get up a tiger hunt, won’t we, Wil- 
son? You will tell us how to set about it, won’t you, 
Doolan?” 

“I don’t shoot,” Captain Doolan said, “and if I 
wanted to I am not sure that my wife -would give me 
leave. ” 

“ Certainly I would not,” Mrs. Doolan said promptly. 
“ Married men have no right to run into unnecessary 
danger. ” 

“ Doctor Wade will be able to put you in the way, 
Mr. Richards,” Isobel said. 

“Doctor Wade!” Mrs. Rintoul exclaimed. “You 
don’t mean to say, Miss Hannay, that he is going with 
us?” 

“Yes, he is going for a time, Mrs. Rintoul. My 
uncle told me that he had applied to go with the de- 
tachment, and that the surgeon there would come back 
to the regiment while he is away.” 

“ I do call that hard,” Mrs. Rintoul said. “ The only 
thing I was glad we were going for was that we should 
be under Mr. McAlaster, who is very pleasant, and 
quite understands my case, while Dr. Wade does not 
seem to understand it at all, and is always so very 
brusque and unsympathetic.” 

There was a general smile. 

“Wade is worth a hundred of McAlaster,” Captain 
Roberts said. “ There is not a man out here I would 
rather trust m3rself to if I were ill. He is an awfully 
good fellow, too, all round, though he may be, as. you 
say, a little brusque in manner. ” 

“I call him a downright bear,” Mrs. Rintoul said 
angrily. “ Why, only last week he told me that if I 
would get up two hours earlier and go for a brisk walk 
just after sunrise, and give up eating meat at tiffin, 
and confine myself to two or three dishes at dinner, I 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. Ill 

should be perfectly well in the course of a month ; just 
as if I was in the habit of over-eating myself, when I 
have scarcely the appetite of a sparrow. I told Cap- 
tain Rintoul afterward that I must consult some one 
else, for that really I could not bear such rudeness.” 

“I am afraid we are all against you, Mrs. Rintoul,” 
Mrs. Doolan said, with a little shake of her head at 
Isobel, who was, she saw, going to speak out strongly. 
“No one could possibly be kinder than he is when any 
one is really ill. I mean seriously ill,” she added, as 
Mrs. Rintoul drew herself up indignantly. “I shall 
never forget how attentive he was to the children when 
they were down with fever just before he went to Eng- 
land. He missed his ship and lost a month of his leave 
because he would not go away till they were out of 
danger, and there are very few men who would have 
done that. I shall never forget his kindness. And 
now let us talk of something else. You will have to 
establish a little mess on your own account, Mr. Wilson, 
as both the captains are married men, and the Major 
has also an incumbrance.” 

“ Yes, it will be horribly dull, Mrs. Doolan. Richards 
and I have quarters together here, and, of course, it 
will be the same there, and I am sure I don’t know 
what we shall find to talk about when we come to have 
to mess together. Of course, here, there are the mess- 
room and the club, and so we get on very well, but to 
be together always will be awful.” 

“You will really have to take to reading or some- 
thing of that sort, Mr. Wilson,” Isobel laughed. 

“ I always do read the Fields Miss Hannay, but that 
won’t last for a whole week, you know; and there is no 
billiard -table, and no racquet court, or anything else at 
Deennugghur, and one cannot always be riding about 
the country.” 

“We shall all have to take pity on you as much as 
we can,” Mrs. Doolan said. “ I must say that, like Miss 
Hannay, I shall not object to the change.” 

“ I think it is all very well for you, Mrs. Doolan, you 
have children. ” 

“ Well, Mr. Richards, I will let you both, as a great 


II2 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


treat, take them out for a walk sometimes of a morning 
instead of their going with. the. ayah. That will make 
a change for you. ” f 

There was a general laugh,^m "'V^lson said, man- 
full}^: “Very well, Mrs. Doolan; I am very fond of 
5^oungsters, and I should like to take, anyhow, the two 
eldest out sometinies. I don’t think I should make 
much hand with the other two, but perhaps Richards 
would like to come in and amuse them while we are 
out, he is just the fellow for young ones.’’ 

There was another laugh in which Richards joined. 
“ I could carry them about on my back, and pretend to 
be a horse,’’ he said, “but I don’t know that I could 
amuse them in any other way.’’ 

“ YotTwould find that very hot work, Mr. Richards,’’ 
Mrs. Doolan said, “but I don’t think we shall require 
such a sacrifice of you. Well, I don’t think we shall 
find it so bad, after all, and I don’t suppose it will be 
for very long; Ido not believe in all this talk about 
chupaties, and disaffection, and that sort of thing; I 
expect in three months we shall most of us be back 
again." 

Ten days later the detachment was settled down in 
Deennugghur. The troops were for the most part 
under canvas, for there was only accommodation for a 
single company at the station. The two subalterns oc- 
cupied a large square tent, while the other three officers 
took possession of the only three bungalows that were 
vacant at the station, the Doctor having a tent to him- 
self. The Major and Isobel had stayed for the first 
three days with the Hunters, at the end of which time 
the bungalow had been put in perfect order. It was 
far less commodious than that at Cawnpore, but Isobel 
was well satisfied with it when all their belongings 
had been arranged, and she soon declared that she pre- 
ferred Deennugghur greatly to Cawnpore. 

ThOvSe at the station heartily welcomed the accession 
to their numbers, and there was an entire absence of 
the stiffness and formality of a large cantonment like 
Cawnpore, and Isobel was free to run in as she chose to 
spend the morning chatting and working with the Hun- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


”3 


tors, or Mrs. Doolan, or with the other ladies, of whom 
there were three at the station. 

A few days after their arrival, news came in that the 
famous man-eater, which had for a time ceased his 
ravages and moved off to a different i^art of the country, 
principally because the natives of the villages near the 
jungle had ceased altogether to go out after nightfall, 
had returned, and had carried off herdsmen on two 
consecutive days. 

The Doctor at once prepared for action, and agreed 
to allow Wilson and Richards to accompany him, and 
the next day the three rode off together to Narkeet, to 
which village the two herdsmen had belonged. Both 
had been killed near the same spot, and the natives had 
traced the return of the tiger to the jungle with its 
victims. 

The Doctor soon found that the ordinary methods of 
destroying the tiger had been tried again and again 
without success. Cattle and goats had been tied up, 
and the native shikaris had taken their posts in trees 
close by, and had watched all night — but in vain. 
Spring-traps and deadfalls had also been tried, but the 
tiger seemed absolutely indifferent to the attractions of 
animal food, and always on the lookout for snares. 
The attempts made at a dozen villages near the jungle 
had all been equally unsuccessful. 

“ It is evident, ” the Doctor said, “ that the brute cares 
for nothing but human victims. No doubt if he were 
very hungry he would take a cow or a goat, but we 
might wait a very long time for that ; so the only thing 
that I can see is to act as a bait myself.” 

“ How will you do that. Doctor?” 

“ I shall build a sort of cage near the point where the 
tiger has twice entered the jungle. I will take with 
me in the cage a woman or girl from the village. 
From time to time she shall cry out as if in pain, and 
as the tiger is evidently somewhere in this neighbor- 
hood, it is likely enough he will come out to see about it. ' 
We must have the cage pretty strong, or I shall never 
get any one to sit with me ; besides, on a dark night, 
thjere is no calculating on killing to a certainty with 
S 


114 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


the first shot, and it is just as well to be on the safe 
side. In daylight it would be a different matter alto- 
gether. I can rely upon my weapon when I can see , 
but on a dark night it is pretty well guess-work.” 

The villagers were at once engaged to erect a stout 
cage eight feet square and four high, of beams driven 
into the ground six inches apart, and roofed in with 
strong bars. There was a considerable difficulty in 
getting any one to consent to sit by the Doctor, but at 
last the widow of one of the men who had been killed 
agreed for the sum of twenty-five rupees to pass the 
night there accompanied by her child of four years 
old. 

The Doctor’s skill with his rifle was notorious, but it 
was rather the desire of seeing her husband’s death 
avenged than for the sake of the money, that she con- 
sented to keep watch. There was but one tree suitable 
for the watchers; it stood some forty yards to the right 
of the cage, and it was arranged that both the subalterns 
should take their station in it. 

“Now look here, lads,” he said, “before we start on 
this business, it must be quite settled that you do not 
fire till you hear my rifle. That is the first thing ; the 
second is that you only fire when the brute is a fair 
distance from the cage. If you get excited and blaze 
away anyhow, you are quite as likely to hit me as you 
are the tiger. Now, I object to take any risk whatever 
on that score. You will have a native shikari in the 
tree with you to point out the tiger, for it is twenty to 
one against you making him out for yourselves. It will 
be quite indistinct, and you have no chance of making 
out its head or anything of that sort, and you have to 
take a shot at it as best you may. 

“ Remember that there must not a word be spoken. 
If the brute does come, it will probably make two or 
three turns round the cage before it approaches it, and 
may likely enough pass close to you, but in no case 
fire. You can’t make sure of killing it, and if it were 
only wounded, it would make off into the jungle, and 
all our trouble would be thrown away. Also remem- 
ber you must not smoke; the tiger would smell it half . 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


”5 


a mile away, and, besides, the sound of a match strik- 
ing would be quite sufficient to set him on his guard.” 

“ There is no objection, I hope, Doctor, to our taking 
up our flasks ; we shall want something to keep us from 
going to sleep.” 

“ No, there is no objection to that,” the Doctor said, 
“but mind you don’t go to sleep, for if you did you 
might fall off your bough and break your neck, to say 
nothing of the chance of the tiger happening to be 
close at hand at the time.” 

Late in the afternoon the Doctor went down to in- 
spect the cage, and pronounced it sufficiently strong. 
Half an hour before nightfall he and the woman and 
child took their places in it, and the two beams in the 
roof that had been left unfastened to allow of their 
entry were securely lashed in their places by the vil- 
lager3. Wilson and Richards were helped up into the 
tree, and took their places upon two boughs which 
sprang from the trunk close to each other at a height 
of some twelve feet from the ground. The shikari, 
who was to wait with them, crawled out, and with a 
hatchet chopped off some of the small boughs and fo- 
liage so as to give them a clear view of the ground for 
some distance round the cage, which was erected in 
the centre of a patch of brushwood, the lower portion 
of which had been cleared out so that the Doctor should 
have an uninterrupted view round. The boughs and 
leaves were gathered up by the villagers, and carried 
away by them, and the watch began. 

“Confound it,” Richards whispered to his compan- 
ion after night fell, “ it is getting as dark as pitch ; I 
can scarcely make out the clump where the cage is. I 
should hardly see an elephant if he were to come, much 
less a brute like a tiger.” 

“We shall get accustomed to it presently,” Wilson 
replied ; “ at any rate make quite sure of the direction 
in which the cage is ; it is better to let twenty tigers 
go than to run the risk of hitting the Doctor.” 

In another hour their eyes had become accustomed 
to the darkness, and they could not only see the clump 
in which the cage was, clearly, but could make out the 


Il6 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

outline of the bush all round the open space in which 
it stood. Both started as a loud and dismal wail rose 
suddenly in the air, followed by a violent crying. 

“ By Jove, how that woman made me jump!” Wilson 
said; “it sounded quite awful, and she must have 
pinched that poor little beggar of hers pretty sharply 
to make him yell like that.” 

A low “ hush” from the shikari at his elbow warned ^ 
Wilson that he was speaking too loudly. Hours passed 
by, the cries being raised at intervals. 

” It is enough to give one the jumps, Richards; each 
time she yells I pretty well fall off my branch.” 

“Keep on listening, then it won’t startle you.” 

“A fellow can’t keep on listening,” Wilson grum- 
bled ; “ I listen each time until my ears begin to sing, 
and I feel stupid and sleepy, and then she goes again like 
a steam-whistle ; that child will be black and blue all 
over in the morning.” 

A warning hiss from the shikari again induced Wil- 
son to silence. 

“ I don’t believe the brute is coming,” he whispered, 
an hour later. “ If it wasn’t for this bough being so 
hard, I should drop off to sleep; my eyes ache with 
staring at those bushes. ” 

As he spoke the shikari touched him on the shoulder 
and pointed. “Tiger,” he whispered; and then did 
the same to Richards. Grasping their rifles, they gazed 
in the direction in which he pointed, but could for 
some time make out nothing. Then they saw a dim 
gray mass in front of the bushes, directly on the oppo- 
site side of the open space ; then from the clump lying 
almost in a direct line between it and them rose the 
cry of the child. They were neither of them at all cer- 
tain that the object at which they were gazing was the 
tiger. It seemed shapeless, the outline fading away in 
the bush ; but they felt sure that they had noticed noth- 
ing like it in that direction before. 

For two or three minutes they remained in uncer- 
tainty, then the outline seemed to broaden, and it 
moved noiselessly. There could be no mistake now; 
the tiger had been attracted by the cries, and as it 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. II7 

moved along they could see that it was making a cir- 
cuit of the spot from whence the sounds proceeded, to 
reconnoitre before advancing toward its prey. It kept 
close to the line of bushes, and sometimes passed be- 
hind some of them. The shikari pressed their shoul- 
ders, and a low hiss enforced the necessity for absolute 
silence. The two young fellows almost held their 
breath ; they had lost sight of the tiger now, but knew 
it must be approaching them. 

For two or three minutes they heard and saw nothing; 
then the shikari pointed beyond them, and they almost 
started as they saw the tiger retreating, and knew that 
it must have passed almost under them without their 
noticing it. At last it reached the spot at which they 
had first seen it. The child’s cry, but this time low 
and querulous, again rose. With quicker steps than 
before it moved on, but still not directly toward the 
centre, to the great relief of the two subalterns, who 
had feared that it might attack from such a direction 
that they would not dare to fire for fear of hitting the 
cage. Fortunately it passed that point, and, crouch- 
ing, moved toward the bushes. 

Wilson and Richards had their rifles now at their 
shoulders, but in the feeble and uncertain light felt by 
no means sure of hitting their mark, though it was but 
some thirty yards away. Almost breathlessly they 
listened for the Doctor’s rifle, but both startedjwhen 
the flash and sharp crack broke on the stillness. There 
was a sudden snarl of pain, the tiger gave a spring in 
the air and then fell, rolling over and over. 

“It is not killed,’’ the shikari exclaimed. “Fire 
when it gets up.’’ 

Suddenly it rose to its feet, and, with a loud roar, 
sprang toward the thicket. The two subalterns fired, 
but the movements of the dimly-seen creature were so 
swift that they felt by no means sure that they had hit 
it. Then came, almost simultaneously, a loud shriek 
from the woman of a very different character to the 
long wails she had before uttered, followed by a sound 
of rending and tearing. 

“ He is breaking down the cage,’’ Richards exclaimed 


Il8 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

excitedly, as he and Wilson hastened to ram another 
cartridge down their rifles. “ Come, we must go and 
help the Doctor.” But a moment later came another 
report of a rifle, and then all was silent. Then the 
Doctor’s voice was heard. 

“Don’t get down from the tree yet, lads; I think he 
is dead, but it is best to make sure first. ” 

There was a pause, and then another rifle-shot fol- ^ 
lowed by the shout, “ All right ; he is as dead as a door 
nail now. Mind your rifles as you climb down.” 

“Fancy thinking of that,” Wilson said, “when you 
have just killed a tiger; I haven’t capped mine yet, 
have you, Richards?” 

“ I have just put [it on, but will take it off again. 
Here, old man, you get down first and we will hand the 
guns to you,” this to the shikari. 

With some difficulty they scrambled down from the 
tree. 

“ Now we may as well cap our rifles,” Richards said, 
“the brute may not be dead after all.” 

They approached the bush cautiously. 

“You are quite sure he is dead. Doctor?” 

“ Quite sure; do you think I don’t know when a tiger 
is dead?” 

Still holding their guns in readiness to fire, they ap- 
proached the bushes. 

“You can do no good until the villagers come with 
torches,” the Doctor said; “the tiger is dead enough, 
but it is always as well to be prudent. ” 

The shikari had uttered a loud cry as he sprang 
down from the tree, and this had been answered by 
shouts from the distance. In a few minutes lights 
were seen through the trees, and a score of men with 
torches and lanterns ran up with shouts of satisfac- 
tion. 

As soon as they arrived, the two young officers ad- 
vanced to the cage. On the top a tiger was lying 
stretched out as if in sleep; with some caution they 
approached it and flashed a torch in its eyes. There 
was no doubt that it was dead. The body was quickly 
rolled off the cage, and then a dozen hands cut the 


IN THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


II9 

lashing and lifted the top bars, which were deeply 
scored by the tiger’s claws, and the Doctor emerged. 

“ I am glad to be out of that,” he said; “six hours in 
a cage with a woman and a crying brat is no joke.” 

As soon as the Doctor had got out the subalterns 
eagerly examined the tiger, upon which the natives 
were heaping curses and execrations. 

“How many wounds has it got?” they asked the 
Doctor, who repeated the question to the shikari in his 
own language. 

“ Three, sahib — one full in the chest, it would have 
been mortal, two others in the belly. ” 

“ No others?” the subalterns exclaimed in disgust as 
the answer was translated to them. 

The Doctor himself examined the tiger. 

“No, you both missed, lads, but you need not be 
ashamed of that ; it is no easy matter to hit a tiger even 
at a short distance on a dark night like this, when you 
can scarce make him out, and can’t see the barrel of 
your rifle. I ought to have told you to rub a little 
phosphorus off the head of a match on to the sight. I 
am so accustomed to do it myself as a matter of course, 
that I did not think of telling you. Well, I am heartily 
glad we have killed it, for by all accounts it has done 
an immense deal of damage.” 

“ It has been a fine tiger in its time, although its 
skin doesn’t look much, ” Wilson said ; “ there are patches 
of fur off. ” 

“ That is generally the case with man-eaters. They 
are mostly old tigers who take to killing men when 
they get past their strength. I don’t know whether the 
flesh doesn’t agree with them, but they are almost al- 
ways mangy. ” 

“We were afraid for a moment,” Richards said, 
“ that the tiger was going to break into your cage ; we 
heard him clawing away at the timber, and as you 
didn’t fire again we were afraid something was the 
matter. ” 

“The mother was,” the Doctor said testily. “The 
moment the tiger sprang, the woman threw herself 
down at full length right on, the top of my second rifle. 


120 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


and when I went to push her off, I think she fancied 
the tiger had got hold of her, for she gave a yell that 
fairly made me jump. I had to push her off by main 
force and then lie down on my back so as to get the 
rifle up to fire. I was sure the first shot was fatal, for 
I knew just where his heart would be, but I dropped a 
second cartridge in and gave him another bullet so as 
to make sure. Well, if either of you want his head or 
his claws, you had better say so at once, for the natives 
will be singeing his whiskers off directly ; it is a super- 
stition of theirs. ” 

“No, I don’t want them,” Wilson said. “If I had 
put a bullet into the brute so that I could have said I 
helped to kill him, I should have liked the head to get 
it preserved and sent home to my people, but as it is, 
the natives are welcome to it as far as I am concerned.” 

Richards was of the same opinion, and so, without 
further delay, they started back for the village, where, 
upon their arrival, they were greeted with cries of joy 
by the women, the news having already been carried 
back by a boy. 

“ Poor beggars,” the Doctor said. “ They have been 
living a life of terror for weeks. They must feel as if 
they had woke from a nightmare. Now, lads, we will 
have some supper. I dare say you are ready for it, and 
I am sure I am.” 

“ Is there any chance of supper. Doctor? Why, it must 
be two o’clock in the morning.” 

“Of course there is,” the Doctor replied. “ I gave 
orders to my man to begin to warm up the food as soon 
as he heard a gun fired, so that I will guarantee he has 
got everything ready by this time.” 

After a hearty meal and a cigar, they lay down for a 
few hours’ sleep, and at daybreak rode back to Deen- 
nugghur, the two subalterns rather crestfallen at their 
failure to have taken any active part in killing the tiger 
that had so long been a terror to the district. 

“ It was an awful sell missing him. Miss Hannay. I 
wanted to have had the claws mounted as a necklace, 
I thought you would have liked it.” 

“ I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Wilson, but I 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


12 I 


would much rather not have had them. If the tiger 
hadn’t been a man-eater I should not have minded, but 
I should never have worn as an ornament claws that 
had killed lots of people — women, and children too.” 

“No, I never thought of that. Miss Hannay; it 
wouldn’t have been pleasant now one thinks of it; still 
I wish I had put a bullet into him.” 

“No doubt you will do better next time, Mr. Wilson. 
The Doctor has been telling me that it is extremely 
difficult to hit an animal in the dark when you are not 
accustomed to that sort of shooting. He says he was 
in a great fright all the time he was lying in the cage, 
and that it was an immense relief to him when he heard 
your rifles go off, and found that he wasn’t hit.” 

“That is too bad of him. Miss Hannay;” Wilson 
laughed ; “ we were not such duffers as all that. I don’t 
believe he really did think so.” 

“ I am sure he w^as in earnest, Mr. Wilson. He said 
he should have felt quite safe if it had been daylight, 
but that in the dark people really can’t see which way 
the rifles are pointed, and that he remembered he had 
not told you to put phosphorus on the sights. ” 

“ It was too bad of him, ” Wilson grumbled ; “ it would 
have served him right if one of the bullets had hit a 
timber of the cage and given him a start. I should like 
to have seen the Doctor struggling in the dark to get 
his second rifle from under the woman, with the tiger 
clawing and growling two feet above him.” 

“The Doctor didn’t tell me about that,” Isobel 
laughed, “ though he said he had a woman and child 
with him to attract the tiger.” 

“ It would have frightened any decent-minded tiger. 
Miss Hannay, instead of attracting it, for such dismal 
yells as that woman made, I never listened to; I nearly 
tumbled off the tree at the first of them, it made me 
jump so, and it gave me a feeling of cold water running 
down my back; as to the child, I don’t know whether 
she pinched it or the Doctor stuck pins into it, but the 
poor little brute howled in the most frightful way. I 
don’t think I shall ever want to go tiger-shooting in the 
dark again; I ache all over to-day as if I had been 


122 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


playing in the first football match of the season, from 
sitting balancing myself on that branch; I was almost 
over half a dozen times.” 

“I expect you nearly went off to sleep, Mr. Wilson.” 

“ I think I should have gone to sleep if it hadn’t been 
for that woman. Miss Hannay. I should not have 
minded if I could have smoked, but to sit there hour 
after hour and not be able to smoke, and not allowed to 
speak, and staring all the time into the darkness till 
your eyes ached, was trying, I can tell you, and, after 
all that, not to hit the brute was too bad.” 

The days passed quietly at Deennugghur. They 
were seldom alone at Major Hannay’s bungalow in the 
evening, for Wilson and Richards generally came in to 
smoke a cigar in the veranda; the Doctor was a regular 
visitor when he was not away in pursuit of game, and 
Bathurst was also often one of the party. 

“ Mr. Bathurst is coming out wonderfully. Miss Han- 
nay,” Mrs. Hunter said one day, as Isobel sat working 
with her, while the two girls were practising duets on 
a piano in the next room ; “ we used to call him the 
hermit, he was so difficult to get out of his cell. We 
were quite Surprised when he accepted our invitation 
to dinner yesterday. ” 

“I think Doctor Wade has stirred him up,” Isobel * 
said calmly; “he is a great favorite of the Doctor’s.” 

Mrs. Hunter smiled over her work. “ Perhaps so, m}’- 
dear; anyhow, I am glad he has come out, and I hope 
he won’t retire into his shell again after you have all 
gone.” 

“ I suppose it depends on his work,” Isobel said. 

“ My experience of men is that they can always make 
time if they like, my dear. When a man says he is too 
busy to do this, that, or the other, you may always 
safely put it down that he doesn’t want to do it. Of 
course, it is just the same thing with ourselves. You 
often hear women say they are too busy to attend to all 
sorts of things that they ought to attend to, but the 
same woman can find plenty of time to go to every 
pleasure gathering that comes off. There is no doubt 
that Mr, Bathurst is really fond of work, and that he is 


IN THh. L>AY 3 OF THE I\FUTINY. I23 

an indefatigable civil servant of the company, but that 
would not prevent him making an hour or two’s time 
of an evening occasionally if he wanted to ; however, 
he seems to have turned over a new leaf, and I hope it 
will last. In a small station like this, even one man is 
of importance, especially when he is as pleasant as Mr. 
Bathurst can be when he likes. He was in the army at 
one time, you know.” 

“Was he, Mrs. Hunter?” 

“ Yes. I never heard him say so himself, but I have 
heard so from several people. I think he was only in 
it for a year or so. I suppose he did not care for it, 
and can quite imagine he would not do, so he sold out 
and a short time afterward obtained a civil appoint- 
ment. He has very good interest; his father was Gen- 
eral Bathurst, who was, as you know, a very distin- 
guished officer. He had no difficulty in getting him 
into our service, where he is entirely in his element. 
His father died two years ago, and I believe he came 
into a good property at home. Every one expected he 
would have thrown up his appointment, but it made no 
difference to him, and he just went on as before, work- 
ing as if he had to depend entirely on the service. ” 

“I can quite understand that,” Isobel said; “to a 
really earnest man a life of usefulness here must be 
vastly preferable to living at home without anything to 
do or any object in life.” 

“ Well, perhaps so, my dear, and in theory that is no 
doubt the case, but practically I fancy you would find 
nineteen men out of twenty, even if they are what you 
call earnest men, retire from the ranks of hard workers 
if they come into a nice property. By the way, you 
must come in here this evening. There is a juggler in 
the station, and Mr. Hunter has told him to come round. 
The servants say the man is a very celebrated juggler, 
one of the best in India, and as the girls have never seen 
anything better than the ordinary itinerant conjurers, 
my husband has arranged for him to come in here, and 
we have been sending notes round asking every one to 
come in. We have sent one round to your place, but 
you must hay§ come out before the chit arrived,” 


124 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“Oh, I should like that very much,” Isobel said. 
“ Two or three men came to our bungalow at Cawnporu 
and did some conjuring, but it was nothing particular, 
but uncle says .some of them do wonderful things, things 
that he cannot account for at all. That was one of the 
things I read about at school, and thought I should like 
to see more than anything in India. When I was at 
school we went in a body, two or three times, to see 
conjurers when they came to Cheltenham; of course I 
did not understand the things they did, and they seemed 
wonderful to me, but I know there are people who can 
explain them, and that they are only tricks; but I have 
read accounts of things done by jugglers in India that 
seemed impossible to explain; really a sort of magic.” 

“I have heard a good many arguments about it,” 
Mrs. Hunter said, “ and a good many people, especially 
those who have seen most of them, are of opinion that 
many of the feats of the Indian jugglers cannot be ex- 
plained by any natural laws we know of. I have seen 
some very curious things myself, but the very fact that 
I did not understand how they were done was no proof 
they could not be explained; certainly two of their 
commonest tricks, the basket trick and the mango, have 
never been explained. Our conjurers at home can do 
something like them, but then that is on a stage where 
they can have trap-doors and all- sorts of things, while 
these are done anywhere — in a garden, on a road — 
where there could be no possible preparation, and with 
a crowd of lookers-on all round; it makes me quite 
uncomfortable to look at it.” 

“Well, I must be off now, Mrs. Hunter; it is nearly 
time for uncle to be back, and he likes me to be in 
when he returns.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

Doctor Wade was sitting in the veranda, smoking 
and reading an English paper that had arrived by that 
morning’s mail, when Isobel returned. 

“Good-morning, Doctor; is uncle back?” 


IN THE DAYS OP THE MUTINY. 


125 


"Not yet. He told me he might be half an hour 
late, and that I was to come round and amuse you until 
he came back.” 

" So in my absence you have been amusing yourself, 
Doctor. I have been round at Mrs. Hunter’s; she is 
going to have a juggler there this evening, and we are 
all to go. ” 

"Yes, I got a chit from her this morning. I have 
seen scores of them-, but I make a point of never miss- 
ing an exhibition when I get the chance. I hate any- 
thing I don’t understand, and I go with the faint hope 
of being able to find things out, though I know per- 
fectly well that I shall not do so.” 

" Then you think it is not all quite natural. Doctor?” 

" I don’t say it is not natural, because we don’t know 
what all the natural laws are, but I say that some of the 
things I have seen certainly are not to be accounted for 
by anything we do know. It is not often that the jug- 
glers show their best tricks to the whites ; they know 
that, as a rule, we are altogether sceptical, but I have 
seen at native courts more than once the most astound- 
ing things; things absolutely incomprehensible and in- 
explicable. I don’t suppose we are going to see any- 
thing of that sort to-night, though Mrs. Hunter said in 
her note that they had heard from the native servant 
that this man was a famous one. 

“ There is a sect of people in India — I don’t mean a 
caste, but a sort of secret society — who, I believe, claim 
to be able by some sort of influence to suspend alto- 
gether the laws of nature. I do not say that I believe 
them ; as a scientific man, it is my duty not to believe 
them, but I have seen such things done by some of the 
higher class of jugglers, and that under circumstances 
that did not seem to admit of the possibility of decep- 
tion, that I am obliged to suspend my judgment, which, 
as you may imagine, my dear, is exceedingly annoying 
to me ; but some of them do possess to a considerable 
extent what the Scotch call second-sight, that is to say, 
the power of foreseeing certain events in the future. 
Of that I am morally certain, I have seen proofs of it 
over and over again. 


126 


IN THU DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ For example, once an old fakir, whom I had cured 
of a badly ulcerated limb, came up just as I was start- 
ing on a shooting expedition. 

“‘Do not go out to-day,’ he said. ‘I foresee evil for 
you. I saw you last night brought back badly 
wounded. ’ 

“ ‘But if I don’t go your dream will come wrong,’ I 
said. 

“ He shook his head. 

“‘You will go in spite of what I say,’ he said, ‘and 
you will suffer and others too, ’ and he looked at a group 
of shikaris who were standing together, ready to make 
a start. 

“ ‘How many men are there?’ he said, 

“‘Why, six, of course,’ I replied. 

“‘I see only three,’ he said, ‘and three dull spots. 
One of those I see is holding his matchlock on his 
shoulder, another is examining his priming, the third 
is sitting down by the fire. Those three will come back 
at the end of the day, the other three will not return 
alive. ’ 

“ I felt rather uncomfortable, but I wasn’t, as I said 
to myself — I was a good deal younger then, my dear — 
such a fool as to be deterred from what promised to be a 
good day’s sport b)’’ such nonsense as this — and I went. 

“ We were going after a rogue elephant that had been 
doing a lot of damage among the natives’ plantations. 
We found him, and a savage brute he turned out to be. 
He moved just as I fired, and though I hit him it was 
not on the fatal spot, and he charged right down among 
us. He caught the very three men the fakir said were 
doomed, and dashed the life out of them ; then he came 
at me. The bearer had run off with my second gun, 
and he seized me and flung me up in the air. 

“ I fell in a tree, but broke three of my ribs and one 
of my arms; fortunately, though the beast tried to get 
at me, I was out of his reach, and the tree was too 
strong for him to knock down. Then another man 
who was with me came up and killed him, and they got 
me down and carried me back, and it was weeks before 
I was about again. That was something more than a, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


127 


coincidence, I think. There were some twenty men 
out with us, and just the four he had pointed out were 
hurt and no others. 

“ I have seen scores of other cases in which these 
predictions have come true, especially in cases of 
disease ; though I grant that here the predictions often 
bring about their own fulfilment. If a native is told 
by a fakir or holy man that he is going to die he makes 
no struggle to live. In several cases I have seen 
natives whose deaths have been predicted die without, 
as far as my science could tell me, any disease or ail- 
ment whatever that should have been fatal to them. 
They simply sank — died, I should say, from pure fright. 
But putting aside this class, I have seen enough to con- 
vince me that some at least among these fanatics do 
possess the power of second-sight.” 

“That is very extraordinary, Doctor; of course, I 
have heard of second-sight among certain old people in 
Scotland, but I did not believe in it” 

“ I should not have believed in it if I had not seen 
the same thing here in India. I naturally have been 
interested in it and have read pretty well everything 
that has been written about second-sight among the 
Highlanders, and some of the incidents are so well au- 
thenticated that I scarcely see how they can be denied. 
Of course, there is no accounting for it, but it is possi- 
ble that among what we may call primitive people there 
are certain intuitions or instincts, call them what you 
like, that have been lost by civilized people. 

“ The power of scent in a dog is something so vastly 
beyond anything we can even imagine possible, that 
though we put it down to instinct it is really almost 
inexplicable. Take the case that dogs have been known 
'to be taken by railway journeys of many hundred miles 
and to have found their way home again on foot. 
There is clearly the possession of a power which is to 
U3 absolutely unaccountable. 

“ But here comes your uncle ; he will think I have 
been preaching a sermon to you if you look so grave.” 

But Major Hannay was too occupied with his own 
thoughts tp notice Isobel. 


128 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ Has anything gone wrong, Major?” the Doctor asked 
as he saw his face. 

“I have just learned,” the Major said, “that some 
more chupaties were brought last night. It is most 
annoying. I have questioned several of the native of- 
ficers and they profess to have no idea whence they 
came or what is the meaning of them. I wish we could 
get to the bottom of this thing — it keeps the troops in a 
ferment. If I could get hold of one of these messengers 
I would get out of him all he knew, even if I had to 
roast him to make him tell.” . 

“ My dear uncle, ” Isobel said reprovingly, “ I am 
sure 3^ou don’t mean what you say.” 

“ I don’t know, ” he said, half laughing ; “ I should cer- 
tainly consider myself perfectly justified in taking un- 
commonly strong steps to try to get to the bottom of this 
business. The thing is going on all over India and it 
must mean something, and it is all the worse if taken 
in connection with this absurd idea about the greased 
cartridges. I grant that it was an act of folly greasing 
them at all, when we know the idiotic prejudices the 
natives have ; still it could hardly have been foreseen 
that this stir would have been made. The issue of the 
cartridges has been stopped, but when the natives once 
get an idea into their minds it is next to impossible to 
disabuse them of it. It is a tiresome business alto- 
gether.” 

“Tiffin ready, sahib,” Rumzan interrupted, coming 
out on to the veranda. 

“ That is right, Rumzan. Now, Isobel, let us think 
of more pleasant subjects.” 

“We are to go in to the Hunters this evening, uncle,” 
Isobel said, as she sat down. “ There is going to be a 
famous juggler there. There is a note for you from 
Mrs. Hunter on the mantel. ” 

“Very well, my dear; some of these fellows are well 
worth seeing. Bathurst is coming in to dinner. I saw 
him as he was starting this morning, just as he was 
going down to the lines, and he accepted. He said he 
should be able to get back in time. However, I don’t 
suppose he will mind going round with us. I hope you 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


129 


will come, Doctor, to make up the table. I have asked 
the two boys to come in. ” 

“ I shall have to become a permanent boarder at your 
establishment. Major. It is really useless my keeping 
a cook when I am in here nearly half my time. But I wiil 
come. I am off for three days to-morrow. A villager 
came in this morning to beg me to go out to rid them 
of a tiger that has established himself in their neigh- 
borhood, and that is an invitation that I never refuse 
if I can possibly manage to make time for it. Fortu- 
nately every one is so healthy here at present, that I 
can be very well spared.” 

At dinner the subject of juggling came up again, and 
the two subalterns expressed their opinion strongly that 
it was all humbug. 

“ Doctor Wade believes in it, Mr. Wilson, ” Isobel said. 

“You don’t say so. Doctor; I should have thought 
you were the last sort of man who would have believed 
in conjurors.” 

“It requires a wise man to believe, Wilson,” the 
Doctor said ; “ any fool can scoff, the wise man ques- 
tions. When you have been here as long as I have, and 
if you ever get as much sense as I have, which is 
doubtful, you may be less positive in your ideas, if you 
can call them ideas.” 

“That is one for me,” Wilson said good-humoredly, 
while the others laughed. 

“ Well, I have never seen them, Doctor, except those 
fellows who come round to the veranda, and I have seen 
conjurors at home do ever so much better tricks than 
they do. ” 

“ What do you think of them, Mr. Bathurst?” Isobel 
asked. “ I suppose you have seen some of the better 
sort?” 

“ I do not know what to think of them, Miss Hannay. 

I used to be rather of Wilson’s opinion, but I have seen 
things since that I could not account for at all. There 
was a man here two or three months back who astounded 
me.” 

“ Mrs. Hunter said that the girls had had no oppor- 
tunity of seeing a good conjuror since they came out, 

9 


130 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

Mr. Bathurst. I suppose they did not know this man 
you are speaking of being here?” 

“ He was only here for a few hours, Miss Hannay. 
I had happened to meet him before, and he gave me a 
private performance, which was quite different to any- 
thing I have ever seen, though I had often heard of the 
feats he had performed. I was so impressed with them 
that I can assure you that for a few days I had great 
difficulty in keeping my mind upon my work. ” 

“What did he do, Mr. Bathurst?” 

Bathurst related the feat of the disappearing girl. 

“ She must have jumped down when you were not 
looking,” Richards said, with an air of conviction. 

“ Possibly,” Bathurst replied quietly. “ But as I was 
within three or four yards of the pole, and it was per- 
fectly distinct in the light of my lamp, and as I cer- 
tainly saw her till she was some thirty or forty feet up 
in the air, I don’t see how she can have managed it. 
For even supposing she could have sprung down that 
distance without being hurt, she would not have come 
down so noiselessly that I should not have heard 
her. ” 

“ Still, if she did not come down that way how could 
she have come?” Wilson said. 

“That is exactly what I can’t make out,” Bathurst 
replied. “ If it should happen to be the same man and 
he will do the same thing again I fancy you will be as 
much puzzled as I was.” 

After dinner was over the party walked across to Mr. 
Hunter’s bungalow, where in a short time the other 
officers, their wives, and all the other residents at the 
.station were assembled. Chairs were placed in the 
veranda for the ladies and a number of lamps hung on 
the wall, so that a strong light w^as thrown upon the 
ground in front of it; in addition, four posts had been 
driven into the ground some twenty feet from the 
veranda, and lamps had been fastened upon them. 

“I don’t know whether the juggler will like that,” 
Mr. Hunter said, “and I shan’t light them if he ob- 
jects. I don’t think myself it is quite fair having a 
light behind him ; still, if he agrees, it will be hardly 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. I3I 

possible for him to make the slightest movement with- 
out being seen. ” 

The juggler, who was sitting round at the other side 
of the house, was now called up. He and the girl who 
followed him salaamed deeply, and made an even deeper 
bow to Bathurst, who was standing behind Isobel’s 
chair. 

“You must have paid them well, Bathurst,” Major 
Hannay said. “ They have evidently a lively remem- 
brance of past favors. I suppose they are the same you 
were talking about?” 

“Yes, they are the same people, Major.” Then he 
said in the native dialect to the juggler : “ Mr. Hunter 
has put some posts with lamps behind you, Rujub, but 
he hasn’t lit them because he did not know whether 
you would object.” 

“ They can be lighted, sahib. My feats do not de- 
pend on darkness. Any of the sahibs who like to stand 
behind us can do so if they do not come within the 
line of those posts.” 

“ Let us go out there,” Wilson said to Richards when 
the answer was translated ; “ we will light the lamps ; 
and we shall see better there than we shall here. ” 

The two went round to the other side and lit the 
lamps, and the servants stood a short distance off on 
either side. 

The first trick shown was the well-known mango tree. 
The juggler placed a seed in the ground, poured some 
water upon it from a lota, and covered it with a cloth. 
In two or three minutes he lifted this, and a plant four 
or five inches high was seen. He covered this with a 
tall basket, which he first handed round for inspection. 
On removing this a mango tree some three feet high, 
in full bloom, was seen. It was again covered, and 
when the basket was removed it was seen to be covered 
with ripe fruit, eliciting exclamations of astonishment 
from those among the spectators who had not before 
seen the trick performed. 

“Now, Wilson,” the Doctor said, “perhaps you will 
be kind enough to explain to us all how this was done?” 

“ I have no more idea than Adam, Doctor. ” 


132 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


^“Then we will leave it to Richards. He promised 
iis at dinner to keep his eyes well open. " 

Richards made no reply. 

“ How was it done, Mr. Bathurst? It seems almost 
like a miracle." 

“ I am as ignorant as Wilson is, Miss Hannay. I 
can’t account for it in any way, and I have seen it done 
a score of times. Ah ! now he is going to do the basket 
trick. Don’t be alarmed when you hear the girl cry 
out. You may be quite sure that she is not hurt. The 
father is deeply attached to her, and would not hurt a 
hair of her head. ’’ 

Again the usual methods were adopted. The basket 
was placed on the ground and the girl stepped into it, 
without the pretence of fear usually exhibited by the 
performers. 

Before the trick began. Major Hannay said to Cap- 
tain Doolan : “ Come round with me to the side of those 
boys. I know the first time I saw it done I was nearly 
throwing myself on the juggler, and Wilson is a hot- 
headed boy, and is likely as not to do so. If he did the 
man would probably go off in a huff and show us noth- 
ing more. From what Bathurst said we are likely to 
see something unusual.’’ 

As soon as the lid was put down, an apparently 
angry colloquy took place between the juggler and the 
girl inside. Presently the man appeared to become 
enraged, and snatching up a long, straight sword from 
the ground ran it three or four times through the 
basket. A loud shriek followed the first thrust, and 
then all was silent. 4 

Some of the ladies rose to their feet with a cry of 
horror, Isobel among them. Wilson and Richards both 
started to rush forward, but were seized by the collars 
by the Major and Captain Doolan. 

“ Will you open the basket?’’ the juggler said quietly 
to Mrs. Hunter. As she had seen the trick before she 
stepped forward without hesitation, opened the lid of 
the basket, and said, “ It is empty.’’ The juggler took 
it and held it up, bottom upward. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


133 


“ What on earth has become of the girl?” Wilson ex- 
claimed. 

As he spoke she passed between him and Richards 
back to her father’s side. 

“Well, I am dashed!” Wilson murmured. “I would 
not have believed it if fifty people had sworn to me 
they had seen it.” He was too much confounded even 
to reply when the Doctor sarcastically said : 

“We are waiting for your explanation, gentlemen.” 

“Will you ask him. Major,” Richards said, as he 
wiped his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief, “ to 
make sure that she is solid?” 

The Major translated the request, and the girl at 
once came across, and Richards touched her with evi- 
dent doubt as to whether she was really flesh and 
blood. 

There was much curiosity among those who had seen 
jugglers before as to what would be the next feat, for 
generally those just seen were the closing ones of a 
performance, but as' these were the first it seemed that 
those to follow must be extraordinary indeed. 

The next feat was the one shown to Bathurst, and was 
performed exactly as upon that occasion except that 
as the girl rose beyond the circle of light she remained 
distinctly visible, a sort of phosphoric light playing 
around her. Those in the veranda had come out now, 
the juggler warning them not to approach within six 
feet of the pole. 

Higher and higher the girl went until those below 
judged her to be at least a hundred and fifty feet from 
the ground. Then the light died out and she disap- 
peared from their sight. There was silence for a min- 
ute or two, and then the end of the pole could be seen 
descending without her. Another minute and it was 
reduced to the length it had been at starting. 

The spectators were silent now ; the whole thing was 
so strange and mysterious that they had no words to 
express their feeling. 

The juggler said something which Mr. Hunter trans- 
lated to be a request for all to resume their places. 

“ That is a wonderful trick,” the Doctor said to Bath- 


134 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


urst. “ I have never seen it done that way before, 
but I once saw a juggler throw up a rope into the air — 
how high it went I don’t know, for, like this, it was 
done at night — but it stood up perfectly stiff and the 
juggler’s attendant climbed up. He went higher and 
higher and we could hear his voice coming down to us. 
At last it stopped, and then suddenly the rope fell in 
coils on the ground and the boy walked quietly in just 
as that girl has done now.” 

The girl now placed herself in the centre of the open 
space. 

“You will please not to speak while this trick is 
being performed,” the juggler said : “ harm might come 
of it. Watch the ground near her feet.” 

A minute later a dark object made its appearance 
from the ground. It rose higher and higher with an 
undulating movement. 

“By Jove! it is a python,” the Doctor whispered in 
Bathurst’s ear. A similar exclamation broke from sev- 
eral of the others, but the juggler waved his hand with 
an authoritative hush. The snake rose until its head 
towered above that of the girl, and then began to twine 
itself round her, continuously rising from the ground 
until it enveloped her with five coils each thicker than 
a man’s arm. It raised its head above hers and hissed 
loudly and angrily; then its tail began to descend, 
gradually the coils unwound themselves — lower and 
lower it descended until it disappeared altogether. It 
was some time before any one spoke, so great was the 
feeling of wonder. The Doctor was the first to break 
the silence. 

“ I have never seen that before, ” he said, “ though I 
have heard of it from a native Rajah.” 

“ Would the sahibs like to see more?” the juggler 
asked. 

The two Miss Hunters, Mrs. Rintoul, and several of 
the others said “ they had seen enough,” but among the 
men there was a general wish to see another feat. 

“I would not have missed this for anything,” the 
Doctor said. “ It would be simple madness to throw 
away such a chance.” The ladies therefore, with the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. I35 

exception of Mrs. Hunter, Mrs. Doolan, and Isobel, 
retired into the house. 

“You must all go on one side now,” the juggler 
said, “ for it is only on one side what I am now going 
to do can be seen.” 

He then proceeded to light a fire ‘of charcoal. When 
he had done this, he said : “ The lights must now be 
extinguished and the curtains drawn, so that the light 
will not stream out from the house.” 

As soon as this was done he poured a powder over 
the fire, and by its faint light the cloud of white smoke 
could be seen. 

“Now I will show you the past,” he said; “who 
speaks?” 

There was silence, and then Doctor Wade said, 
“ Show me my past.” 

A faint light stole up over the smoke, it grew brighter 
and brighter, and then a picture was clearly seen upon it. 

It was the sea, a house standing by itself in a garden 
and separated from the water only by a road. Presently 
the figure of a girl appeared at the gate, and slipping 
out looked down the road as if waiting for some one. 
They could make out all the details of her dress and 
see her features distinctly. A low exclamation broke 
from the Doctor, then the picture gradually faded away. 

“The future,” the juggler said, and gradually an 
Indian scene appeared on the smoke. It was a long, 
straight road, bordered by a jungle. A native was seen 
approaching ; he paused in the foreground. 

“That is you. Doctor,” Mr. Hunter exclaimed ; “you 
are got up as a native, but it’s you.” 

Almost at the same moment two figures came out 
from the jungle; they were also in native dress. 

“You and Miss Hannay,” the Doctor said in a low 
tone to Bathurst, “dressed like natives and dyed.” 
But no one else detected the disguises, and the picture 
again faded away. 

“That is enough, Rujub,” Bathurst said, for he felt 
Isobel lean back heavily against the hand which he 
held at the back of her chair, and felt sure that she had 
fainted. 


136 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“ Draw back the curtains, some one ; I fancy this has 
been too much for Miss Hannay. ” 

The curtains were thrown back, and Mrs. Hunter, 
running in, brought out a lamp. The Doctor had al- 
ready taken his place by IsobeTs side. 

“ Yes, she has fainted,” he said to Bathurst. “ Carry 
her in her chair as she is, so that she may be in the 
room when she comes to. ” This was done. 

“Now, gentlemen,” the Doctor said, “you had better 
light the lamps again out here, and leave the ladies 
and me to get Miss Hannay round.” 

When the lamps were lit it could be seen that the 
whole of the men were a good deal shaken by what 
they had seen. ” 

“Well,” Mr. Hunter said, “they told me he was a 
famous juggler, but that beat anything I have seen 
before. I have heard of such things frequently from 
natives, but it is very seldom that Europeans get a 
chance of seeing them.” 

“I don’t want to see anything of the sort again,” 
Major Hannay said, “it shakes one’s notions of things 
in general. I fancy. Hunter, that we shall want a 
strong peg all round to steady our nerves. I own that 
I feel as shaky as a boy who thinks he sees a ghost on 
his way through a churchyard.” 

There was a general murmur of agreement, and the 
materials were quickly brought. 

“ Well, Wilson, what do you and Richards think of 
it?” the Major went on after he had braced himself up 
with a strong glass of brandy and water. “ I should 
imagine you both feel a little less sceptical than you 
did two hours ago.” 

“ I don’t know what Richards feels. Major, but I 
know I feel like a fool. I am sorry, Bathurst, for what 
I said at dinner, but it really didn’t seem to me to be 
possible what you told us about the girl going up into 
the air, and not coming down again. Well, after I 
have seen what I have seen this evening I won’t dis- 
believe anything I hear in future about these natives.” 

“It was natural enough . that you should be incredu- 
lous,” Bathurst said. “ I should have been just as in- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. I37 

credulous as you were when I first came out, and I have 
been astonished now, though I have seen some good 
jugglers before.” 

At this moment the Doctor came out again. 

“ Miss Hannay is all right again now. Major. I am 
not surprised at her fainting ; old hand as I am at these 
matters, and I think that I have seen as much or more 
juggling than any man in India, I felt very queer my- 
self, specially at the snake business. As I said, I have 
seen that ascension trick before, but how it is done I 
have no more idea than a child. Those smoke scenes, 
too, are astonishing. Of course they could be accounted 
for as thrown upon a column of white smoke by a magic 
lantern, but there was certainly no magic lantern here ; 
the juggler was standing close to me, and the girl 
was sitting at his feet. I watched them both closely, 
and certainly they had no apparatus about them by 
which such views could be thrown on the smoke.” 

“You recognized the first scene, I suppose. Doctor?” 
Bathurst asked. 

“ Perfectly. It took me back twenty-five years. It 
was a cottage near Sidmouth, and was correct in every 
minute detail. The figure was that of the young lady 
I married four years afterward. Many a time have I 
seen her standing just like that as I went along the 
road to meet her from the little inn at which I was 
stopping; the very pattern of her dress, which I need 
hardly say has never been in my mind all these years, 
was recalled to me. 

“ Had I been thinking of the scene at the time I could 
have accounted for it somehow, upon the theory that 
in some way or other the juggler was conscious of my 
thought and reflected it upon the smoke — how, I don’t 
at all mean to say; but, undoubtedly, there exists to 
some extent the power of thought-reading. It is a 
mysterious subject, and one of which we know abso- 
lutely nothing at present, but maybe in upward of a 
hundred years mankind may have discovered many 
secrets of nature in that direction. 

“ But I certainly was not thinking of that scene when 
I spoke and said ‘the past.’ I had no doubt that he 


138 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

would show me something of the past, but certainly no 
particular incident passed through my mind before that 
picture appeared on the smoke.” 

“The other was almost as curious, Doctor,” Captain 
Doolan said, “for it was certainly you masquerading 
as a native. I believe the other was Bathurst; it struck 
me so; and he seemed to be running off with some 
native girl. What on earth could that all mean?” 

“ It is no use puzzling ourselves about it,” the Doctor 
said. “ It may or may not come true. I have no in- 
clination to go about dressed out as a native at present, 
but there is no saying what I may come to. There is 
quite enough for us to wonder at in the other things. 
The mango and basket tricks I have seen a dozen 
times, and am no nearer now than I was at first to un- 
derstanding them. That ascension trick beats me alto- 
gether, and there was something horrible uncanny 
about the snake.” 

“ Do you think it was a real snake, Doctor?” 

“ That I cannot tell you, Richards. Every move- 
ment was perfectly natural. I could see the working 
of the ribs as it wound itself round the girl and the 
quivering of its tongue as it raised its head above her. 
At any other time I should be ready to take my affidavit 
that it was a python of an unusual size, but at the pres- 
ent moment I should not like to give a decided opinion 
about anything connected with the performance.” 

“ I suppose it is no use asking the juggler any ques- 
tions, Hunter?” one of the other men said. 

“Not in the least; they never do answer questions. 
The higher class of jugglers treat their art as a sort of 
religious mystery, and there is no instance known of 
their opening their lips, although large sums have 
frequently been offered them. In the present case you 
will certainly ask no questions, for the man and girl 
have both disappeared with the box and apparatus, and 
everything connected with them. They must have 
slipped off directly the last trick was over, and before 
we had the lamp lighted. I sent after him at once, but 
the servant could find no signs of him. I am annoyed 
because I have not paid them.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, I39 

"‘I am not surprised at that,” Dr. Wade said. “ It is 
quite in accordance with what I have heard of them. 
They live by exhibiting what you may call their ordi- 
nary tricks; but I have heard from natives that when 
they show any what I may call supernatural feats they 
do not take money. It is done to oblige some power- 
ful Rajah, and, as I have said, it is only on a very few' 
occasions that Europeans have ever seen them. Well, 
we may as well go in to the ladies. I don’t fancy any 
of them would be inclined to come out on to the veranda 
again this evening.” 

No one was indeed inclined even for talk, and in a 
very short time the party broke up and returned home. 

“ Come and smoke a pipe with me, Bathurst, before you 
turn in,” the doctor said, as they went out. I don’t 
think either of us will be likely to go to sleep for some 
time. What is )'our impression of all this?” 

“ My impression, certainly, is that it is entirely un- 
accountable by any laws with which we are acquainted, 
Doctor.” 

“ That is just my idea, and always has been since I 
first saw any really good juggling out here. I don’t 
believe in the least in anything supernatural, but I can 
quite believe that there are many natural laws of which 
at present we are entirely ignorant. I believe the 
knowledge of them at one time existed, but has been 
entirely lost, at any rate among Western peoples. The 
belief in magic is as old as anything we have knowl- 
edge of. The magicians at the court of Pharaoh threw 
down their rods, and turned them into serpents. The 
Witch of Endor called up the spirit of Samuel. The 
Greeks, by no means a nation of fools, believed implic- 
itly in the oracles. Coming down to comparatively 
later times the workers of magic burnt their books be- 
fore St. Paul. It doesn’t say, mind you, that those who 
pretended to work magic did so ; but those who worked 
magic. 

“ Early travellers in Persia and India have reported 
things they saw far surpassing any we have witnessed 
this evening, and there is certainly a sect in India at 
present, or rather a body of men, and those, as far as I 


140 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

have been able to learn, of an exceptionally intelligent 
class, who believe that they possess an almost absolute 
mastery over the powers of nature. You see, fifty 
years back if any one had talked about travelling at 
fifty miles an hour, or sending a message five thousand 
miles in a minute, he would have been regarded as a 
madman. There may yet be other discoveries as start- 
ling to be made. 

“ When I was in England, I heard something of a set 
of people in America who called themselves Spirit- 
ualists, some of whom — notably a young man named 
Home — claimed to have the power of raising them- 
selves through the air. I am far from saying that such 
a power exists ; it is of course contrary to what we know 
of the laws of nature, but should such a power exist, it 
would account for the disappearance of the girl from 
the top of the pole. Highland second-sight, carried 
somewhat farther and united with the power of con- 
veying the impressions to others, would account for 
the pictures on the smoke, that is supposing them to be 
true, and personally I own that I expect they will 
prove to be true — unlikely as it may seem that you, I, 
and Miss Hannay will ever be going about in native 
attire.” 

By this time they had reached the Doctor’s bungalow 
and had comfortably seated themselves. 

“ There is one thing that flashed across me this even- 
ing,” Bathurst said. “I told you that first evening I 
met Miss Hannay that I had a distinct knowledge of 
her face. You laughed at me at the time, and it cer- 
tainly seemed absurd, but I was convinced I was not 
wrong. Now I know how it was ; I told you at dinner 
to-day about the feat of the girl going up and not com- 
ing down again ; but I did not tell you — for you can 
understand it is a thing that I should not care to talk 
much about — that he showed me a picture like those 
we saw to-night. 

“ It was a house standing in a courtyard, with a high 
wall round it. I did not particularly observe the house. 
It was of the ordinary native type, and might, for any- 
thing I know, be the house used as a court by Hunter, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


141 


and for keeping stores, and so on, in the middle of this 
station. I don’t say it was that; I did not notice it 
ranch. There was a breach in the outside wall, and 
round it there was a fierce fight going on. A party of 
officers and civilians were repelling the assault of a 
body of Sepoys. On the terraced roof of the house 
others were standing firing and looking on, and I think 
in loading rifles were two or three women. 
One of them I particularly noticed, and now I recall it, 
her face was that of Miss Hannay; of that I am abso- 
lutely certain.” 

“It is curious, lad,” the Doctor said, after a pause; 
“ and the picture you see has so far come true, that you 
have made the acquaintance with one of the actors 
whom you did not previously know. ” 

“ I did not believe in the truth of it, Doctor, and I do 
not believe in it now. There was one feature in the 
fight which was, as I regret to know, impossible.” 

“And what was that, Bathurst?” 

Bathurst was silent for a time. 

“ You are an old friend, Doctor, and you will under- 
stand my case and make more allowances for it than 
most people would. When I first came out here I dare 
say you heard some sort of reports as to why I had left 
the army and had afterward entered the Civil Service.” 

“There were some stupid rumors,” the Doctor said, 
“ that you had gone home on sick leave just after the 
battle of Chillianwalla and had then sold out, because 
you had shown the white feather. I need not say that 
I did not give any credit to it — there is always gossip 
flying about as to the reasons a man leaves the army.” 

“ It was quite true, Doctor. It is a hideous thing to 
say, but constitutionally I am a coward.” 

“I cannot believe it,” the Doctor said warmly. 

“ Now that I know you, you are the last man of whom 
I would credit such a thing.” 

“ It is the bane of my life,” Bathurst went on. “ It 
is my misfortune, for I will not allow it is my fault. 
In many things I am not a coward. I think I could 
face any danger if the danger were a silent one, but I 
cannot stand noise. The report of a gun makes me 


142 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


tremble all over, even when it is a blank cartridge that 
is fired. When I was born, my father was in India. A 
short time before I came into the world, my mother 
had a great fright. Her house in the country was 
broken into by burglars, who entered the room and 
threatened to blow out her brains if she moved; but the 
alarm was given, the men servants came down armed, 
there was a struggle in her room, pistol shots were fired, 
and the burglars were overpowered and captured. My 
mother fainted, and was ill for weeks afterward, in fact 
until the time I was born, and she died a few days later, 
never having, the doctor said, recovered from the shock 
she had suffered that night. 

“ I grew up a weakly, timid boy, the sort of boy that 
is always bullied at school. My father, as you know, 
was a general officer, and did not return home until I 
was ten years old. He was naturally much disap- 
pointed in me, and I think that added to my timidity, 
for it grew upon me rather than otherwise. Morally, 

I was not a coward. At school I can say that I never 
told a lie to avoid punishment, and my readiness to 
speak the truth did not add to my popularity among the 
other boys, and I used to be called a sneak, which was 
even more hateful than being called a coward. 

“ As I g^ew up I shook off my delicacy, and grew, as 
you see, into a strong man. I then fought several bat- 
tles at school ; I learned to ride, and came to have con- 
fidence in myself, and though I had no particular fancy 
for the army, my father’s heart was so set on it that I 
offered no objections. That the sound of a gun was 
abhorrent to me I knew, for the first time my father 
put a gun in my hand and I fired it, I fainted, and 
nothing would persuade me to try again. Still I thought 
that this was the result of nervousness as to firing it 
myself, and that I should get over it in time. 

“ A month or two after I was gazetted, I went out to 
India with the regiment, and arrived just in time to 
get up by forced marches to take part in the battle of 
Chillianwalla. The consequence was that up to that 
time I literally had heard no musketry practice. 

“ Of the events of that battle I have no remembrance 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


143 


whatever ; from the moment the first gun was fired to 
the end of the day, I was as one paralyzed. I saw 
nothing, I heard nothing, I moved mechanically, but 
happily my will or my instinct kept me in my place in 
the regiment. When all was over, and silence followed 
the din, I fell to the ground insensible. Happily for 
me the doctors declared I was in a state of high fever, 
and so I remained for a fortnight. As soon as I got 
better I was sent down the country, and I at once sent 
in my papers, and went home. No doubt the affair 
was talked of, and there were whispers as to the real 
cause of my illness. My father was terribly angry, 
when I returned home and told him the truth of the 
matter. That his son should be a coward was naturally 
an awful blow to him. Home was too unhappy to be 
endured, and when an uncle of mine, who was a direc- 
tor on the Company’s board, offered me a berth in the 
Civil Service, I thankfully accepted it, believing that in 
that capacity I need never hear a gun fired again. 

“You will understand then the anxiety I am feeling 
owing to these rumors of disaffection among the Sepoys, 
and the possibility of anything like a general mutiny. 

“ It is not of being killed that I have any fear ; upon 
the contrary, I have suffered so much in the last eight 
years from the consciousness that the reason why I left 
the army was widely known, that I should welcome 
death if it came to me noiselessly, but the thought that 
if there is trouble I shall assuredly not be able to play 
my part like a man fills me with absolute horror, and 
now more than ever. 

“ So you will understand now why the picture I saw, 
in which I was fighting in the middle of the Sepoys, is 
to me not only improbable, but simply impossible. It 
is a horrible story to have to tell. This is the first time 
I have opened my lips on the subject since I spoke to 
my father, but I know that you, both as a friend and a 
doctor, will pity rather than blame me.’’ 


144 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


CHAPTER X. 

As Bathurst brought his story to its conclusion the 
Doctor rose and placed his hand kindly on his shoulder. 

“ I certainly should not think of blaming you, Bath- 
urst. What you tell me is indeed a terrible misfor- 
tune situated as we may be soon, though I trust and 
believe that all this talk about the Sepoys is moon- 
shine. I own that I am surprised at your story, for I 
should have said from my knowledge of you that though, 
as I could perceive, of a nervous temperament, you 
were likely to be cool and collected in danger. But cer- 
tainly your failing is no fault of your own. " 

“ That is but a small consolation to me. Doctor. Men 
do not ask why and wherefore, they simply point the 
finger of scorn at a coward. The misfortune is that I 
am here. I might have lived a hundred lives in Eng- 
land and never once had occasion to face danger, and I 
thought that I should have been equally secure as an 
Indian civilian. Now this trouble is coming upon us.” 

“Why don’t you take your leave, lad? You have 
been out seven years now without a day’s relaxation, 
except, indeed, the thij^ee days you were over with me 
at Cawnpore. Why not apply for a year’s leave? You 
have a good excuse too; you did not go home at the 
death of your father two years ago, and could very well 
plead urgent family affairs requiring your presence in 
England.” 

“No, I will not do that. Doctor; I will not run away 
from danger again. You understand me, I have not 
the least fear of the danger; I in no way hold to my 
life; I do not think I am afraid of physical pain. It 
seems to me that I could undertake any desperate service. 
I dread it simply because I know that when the din of 
battle begins my body will overmaster my mind, and 
that I shall be as I was at Chillian walla, completely 
paralyzed. You wondered to-night why that juggler 
should have exhibited feats seldom, almost never, shown 
to Europeans? He did it to please me. I saved his 
daughter’s life — this is between ourselves, Doctor, and 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


145 


is not to go farther. But, riding in from Narkeet, I 
heard a cry, and, riding on, came upon that man-eater 
you shot the other day standing over the girl, with her 
father half beside himself gesticulating in front of him. 
I jumped off and attacked the brute with my heavy 
hunting-whip, and he was so completely astonished 
that he turned tail and bolted.” 

“The deuce he did!” the Doctor exclaimed; “and yet 
you talk of being a coward!” 

“No, I do not say that I am a coward generally; as 
long as I have to confront danger without noise I be- 
lieve I could do as well as most men.” 

“ But why didn’t you mention this business with the 
tiger, Bathurst?” 

“ Because, in the first place, it was the work of a 
mere passing impulse ; and in the second, because I 
should have gained credit for being what I am not — a 
brave man. It will ;be bad enough when the truth be- 
comes known, but i,t would be all the worse if I had 
been trading on a false reputation ; therefore I particu,- 
larly charged Rujup to say nothing about the affair to 
anyone.” I 

“Well, putting this for a time aside, Bathurst, what 
do you think of that curious scene, you and I and Miss 
Hannay disguised as natives?” 

“ Taking it with the one I saw of the attack of Sepoys 
upon a house, it looks to me. Doctor, as if there would 
be a mutiny, and that that mutiny would be attended 
with partial success, and that a portion of the garrison, 
at any rate, will escape, and that Miss Hannay will be 
travelling down the country, perhaps to Cawnpore, in 
your charge, and that I in some way shall be with you, 
perhaps acting as guide.” 

“It may possibly be that,” the Doctor agreed. “It 
is at any rate very curious. I wonder whether Miss 
Hannay recognized herself in the disguise.” 

“ I should hope not. Doctor. If it all comes true there 
will be enough for her to bear without looking forward 
to that. I should be glad if the detachment were or- 
dered back to Cawnpore. ” 

“Well, I should not have thought that, Bathurst.” 


146 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

I know what you mean, Doctor, but it is for that 
reason I wish they were gone. I believe now that you 
insisted on my coming down to spend those three days 
with you atCawnpore specially that I might meet her.” 

“That is so, Bathurst. I like her so much that I 
should be very sorry to see her throw herself away upon 
some empty-headed fool. I like her greatly, and I was 
convinced that you were just the man to make her 
happy, and as I knew that you had good prospects in 
England, I thought it would be a capital match for her, 
although you are but a young civilian, and I own that 
of late I have thought things were going on very 
well.” 

“ Perhaps it might have been so. Doctor, had it not 
been for this coming trouble, which, if our fears are 
realized, will entirely put an end even to the possibility 
of what you are talking about. I shall be shown to be 
a cow’ard, and I shall do my best to put myself in the 
way of being killed. I should not like to blow my 
brains out, but if the worst comes to the worst,. I will 
do that rather than go on living after I have again dis- 
graced myself.” 

“You look at it too seriously, Bathurst.” 

“ Not a bit of it. Doctor, and you know it.” 

“ But if the vSepo5"s rise, Bathurst, why should they 
harm their officers? They may be discontented, 
they may have a grievance against the government, they 
may refuse to obey orders and many disband, but why 
on earth should they attack men who have always been 
kind to them, whom they have followed in battle, and 
against whom they have not as much as a shadow of 
complaint?” 

“ I hope it may be so most sincerely,” Bathurst said; 
“ but one never can say. I can hardly bring myself to 
believe that they will attack the officers, much less in- 
jure women and children. Still, I have a most uneasy 
foreboding of evil.” 

“ You have heard nothing from the natives as to any 
coming trouble?” 

“Nothing at all, Doctor, and I am convinced that 
nothing is known among them, or at any rate by the 


In the days of the mutiny. 


147 


great bulk of them. Only one person has ever said a 
word to me that could, indicate a knowledge of coming 
trouble, and that was this juggler we saw to-night. I 
thought nothing of his words at the time. That picture 
he showed me of the attack by Sepoys first gave me an 
idea that his words might mean something. Since 
then we have heard much more of this discontent, and 
I am convinced now that the words had a meaning; 
they were simple enough. It was merely his assurance,' 
two or three times repeated, that he would be ready to 
repay the service I had rendered him with his life. It 
might have been a mere phrase, and so I thought at 
the time. But I think now he had before him the pos- 
sibility of some event occurring in which he might be 
able to repay the service I had rendered him.” 

“There may have been something in it and there 
may not,” the Doctor said, “ but, at any rate, Bathurst, 
he ought to be a potent ally. There doesn’t seem any 
limit to his powers, and he might, for aught one knows, 
be able to convey you away as he did his daughter. ” 

The Doctor spoke lightly and then added : “ But seri- 
ously, the man might be of service. These jugglers go 
among people of all classes. They are li*ke the trouba- 
dours of the Middle Ages, welcomed everywhere; and 
they no doubt have every opportunity of learning what 
is going on, and it may be that he will be able to give 
you timely warning should there be any trouble at 
hand.” • 

“ That is possible enough, ” Bathurst agreed. “ Well, 
Doctor, I shall be on horseback at six, so it is time for 
me to turn in,” and, taking his hat, he walked across to 
his own bungalow. 

The Doctor sat for some time smoking before he 
turned into bed. He had, as he had said, heard rumors 
when Bathurst first came out that he had shown the 
white feather, but he had paid little attention to it at 
the time. They had been together at the first station to 
which Bathurst was appointed when he came out, and 
he had come to like him greatly, but his evident disin- 
clination to join in any society, his absorption in his 
work, and a certan air of gravity unnatural in a young 


148 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

man of twenty, had puzzled him. He had at the time 
come to the conclusion that he must have had some un- 
fortunate love affair, or have got into some very serious 
trouble at home. In time that impression had worn off. 

A young man speedily recovers from a blow, however 
heavy, but no change had taken place in Bathurst, and 
the Doctor had in time become so accustomed to his 
manner that he had ceased to wonder over it. Now 
it was all explained. He sat thinking over it deeply for 
an hour, and then laid down his pipe. 

“ It is a terrible pity he came out here,” he said; “ of 
course it ismot his fault in the slightest degree. One 
might as well blame a man for being born a hunchback ; 
but if there should be a row out here it will be terrible 
for him. I can quite understand his feeling about it. 

If I were placed as he is, and were called upon to fight, 

I should take a dose of prussic acid at once. Men talk 
about their civilization, but we are little better than 
savages in our instincts. Courage is an almost useless 
virtue in a civilized community, but if it is called for 
we despise a man in whom it is wanting just as heartily 
as our tattooed ancestors did. Of course, in him it is a 
purely constitutional failing, and I have no doubt he 
would be as brave as a lion in any other circumstances; 
in fact, the incident of his attacking the tiger with that 
dog-whip of his shows that he is so; and yet, if he 
should fail when the lives of women are at stake, it 
would be a kindness to give him that dose of prussic 
acid, especially as Isobel Hannay will be here. That 
is the hardest part of it to him, I can see.” 

Three days later the force of Deennugghur was in- 
creased by the arrival of a troop of native cavalry, un- • 
der a Captain Forster, who had just returned from leave 
in England. 

“ Do you know Captain Forster, Doctor?” Isobel 
Hannay asked on the afternoon of his arrival. “ Uncle 
tells me he is coming to dinner.” 

“ Then you must look after your heart, my dear. He 
is one of the best-looking fellows out here, a dashing 
soldier, and a devoted servant of the fair sex.” 

“You don’t like him. Doctor,” Isobel said quietly. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


149 


“ I have not said so, my dear— far from it. I think I 
said a good deal for him.” 

“Yes, but you don’t like him, Doctor. Why is 
that?” 

“I suppose because he is not my sort of man,” the 
Doctor said. “ I have not seen him since his regiment 
and ours were at Delhi together, and we did not see 
much of each other then. Our tastes did not lie in the 
same direction.” 

“Well, I know what your tastes are. Doctor; what 
are his?” 

“ I will leave you to find out, my dear. He is all I 
told you — a very handsome man, with, as is perhaps 
natural, a very good opinion of himself, and he distin- 
guished himself more than once in the Punjaub by acts 
of personal gallantry. I have no doubt he thinks it an 
awful nuisance coming to a quiet little station like this, 
and he will probably try to while away his time by 
making himself very agreeable to you. But I don’t 
think you need quite believe all that he says. ” 

“ I have long ago got over the weakness of believing 
people’s flattery. Doctor. However, now you have fore- 
warned me I am forearmed. ” 

The Doctor hesitated, and then said gravely: 

“ It is not my habit to speak ill of people, my dear. 
You do me the justice to believe that?” 

“ I am sure it is not. Doctor. ” 

“ Well, child, in a station like this you must see a 
good deal of this man. He is a man who has won 
many hearts, and thrown them away. Don’t let him 
win yours. He is not a good man ; he has been mixed 
up in several grave scandals; he has been the" ruin of 
more than one young man at cards and billiards; he is 
in all respects a dangerous man. Anatomically I sup- 
pose he has a heart, morally he has not a vestige of one. 
Whatever you do, child, don’t let him make you like 
him. ” 

“I don’t think there is much fear of that. Doctor, 
after what you have said, ” she replied with a quiet smile, 

“ and I am obliged to you indeed for warning me. ” 

‘‘ I know I am an old fool for meddling, but you 


150 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

know, my dear, I feel a sort of personal relationship to 
you, after your having been in my charge for six 
months. I don’t know a single man in all India whom 
I would not rather see you fall in love with than with 
Captain Forster.” 

“ I thought uncle did not seem particularly pleased 
when he came in to tiffin, and said there was a new 
arrival. ” 

“I should think not,” the Doctor said; “the man is 
notoriously a dangerous fellow, and yet as he has 
never actually outstepped what are considered the 
bounds which constitute an officer and a gentleman, he 
has retained his commission, but it has been a pretty 
close shave once or twice. Your uncle must know all 
about him, every one does; but I don’t suppose the 
Major will open his mouth to you on the subject — he is 
one of those chivalrous sort of men who never thinks 
evil of any one unless he is absolutely obliged to ; but 
in a case like this I think he is wrong at any rate. I 
have done what I consider to be my duty in the matter. 
Now the matter is in your hands. I am glad to see 
that you are looking quite yourself again, and got over 
your fainting fit of the other night. I quite expected 
to be sent for professionally the next morning.” 

“Oh, yes, I have quite got over it. Doctor; I can’t 
make out how I was so silly as to faint. I never did 
such a thing before, but it was so strange and mysteri- 
ous that I felt quite bewildered, and the picture quite 
frightened me, but I don’t know why. This is the first 
chance I have had since of speaking to you alone. 
What do you think of it, and why should you be dressed 
up as a native? and why should — ” She stopped with 
a heightened color on her cheeks. 

“ You and Bathurst be dressed up, too? So you no- 
ticed your own likeness; nobody else but Bathurst and 
myself recognized the two figures that came out of the 
wood.” 

“Oh, you saw it too. Doctor. I thought I might 
have been mistaken, for, besides being stained, the face 
was all obscured somehow. Neither uncle, nor Mrs. 
Hunter, nor the girls, nor any one else I have spoken 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 15^ 

to seem to have had an idea it was me, though they 
all recognized you. What could it mean?” 

“I have not the slightest idea in the world,” the 
Doctor said; “very likely it meant nothing. I cer- 
tainly should not think any more about it: these jug- 
glers’ tricks are curious and unaccountable; but it is 
no use our worrying ourselves about them. Maybe we 
are all going to get up private theatricals some day, 
and perform an Indian drama. I have never taken any 
part in tomfooleries of that sort so far, but there is no 
saying what I may come to.” 

“ Are you going to dine here, Doctor?” 

“ No, my dear ; the Major asked me to come in, but 
I declined : I told him frankly that I did not like For- 
ster, and that the less I saw of him the better I should 
be pleased. ” 

The other guests turned out to be Captain and Mrs. 
Doolan and Mr. Congreave, one of the civilians at the 
station. The Doolans arrived first. 

“You have not seen Captain Forster yet, Isobel,” 
Mrs. Doolan said, as they sat down for a chat together. 
“ I met him at Delhi soon after I came out. He is quite 
my beau ideal of a soldier in appearance, but I don’t 
think he is nice, Isobel. I have heard all sorts of 
stories about him. ” 

“Is that meant as a warning for me, Mrs. Doolan?” 
Isobel asked, smiling. 

“Well, yes, I think it is, if you. don’t mind my giv- 
ing you one. There are some men one can flirt with 
as much as one likes and there are some men one can’t; 
he is one of that sort. Privately, my dear, I don’t 
mind telling you that at one time I did flirt with him 
— I had been accustomed to flirt in Ireland; we all 
flirt there, and mean nothing by it — but I had to give 
it up very suddenly. It wouldn’t do, my dear, at all; 
his ideas of flirtation differed utterly from mine. I 
found I was playing with fire and was fortunate in get- 
ting off without singeing my wings, which is more 
than a good many others would have done. ” 

“ He must be a horrid sort of man,” Isobel said in- 
dignantly. 


152 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

Mrs. Doolan laughed. “ I don’t think you will find 
him so; certainly that is not the general opinion of 
women. However, you will see him for yourself in a 
few minutes.” 

Isobel looked up with some curiosity when Captain 
Forster was announced, and at once admitted to herself 
that the Doctor’s report as to his personal appearance 
was fully justified. He stood over six feet high, with 
a powerful frame and an easy, careless bearing ; his hair 
was cut rather close, he wore a long, tawny mustache, 
his eyes were dark, his teeth very white and perfect. 

A momentary look of surprise came across his face as 
his eyes fell on Isobel. 

“I had hardly expected,” he said, as the Major in- 
troduced him to her, “ to find no less than three unmar- 
ried ladies at Deennugghur. I had the pleasure of be- 
ing introduced to the Miss Hunters this afternoon. How 
do you do, Mrs. Doolan? I think it is four years since 
I had the pleasure of knowing you in Delhi.” 

“ I believe that is the number. Captain Forster. ” 

“ It seems a very long time to me,” he said. 

“I thought you would say that,” she laughed. “It 
was quite the proper thing to say. Captain Forster ; but 
I dare say it does seem longer to you than it does to me, 
as you have been home since.” 

“We are all here,” the Major broke in; “Captain 
Forster, will you take my niece in?” 

“ I suppose you find this very dull after Cawnpore, 
Miss Hannay?” Captain Forster asked. 

“Indeed, I do not,” Isobel said. “I like it better 
here; everything is sociable and pleasant, while at 
Cawnpore there was much more formality. Of course, 
there were lots of dinner parties, but I don’t care for 
large dinner parties at all, it is so hot and they last 
such a time. I think six is quite large enough. Then 
there is a general talk and every one can join in just as 
much as they like, while at a large dinner you have to 
rely entirely upon one person, and I think it is very 
hard work having to talk for an hour and a half to a 
stranger of whom you know nothing. Don’t you agree 
with me?” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 153 

“ Entirely, Miss Hannay. I am a pretty good hand at 
talking, but at times I have found it very hard work, I 
can assure you, especially when you take down a 
stranger to the station, so that you have no mutual ac- 
quaintance to pull to pieces.” 

The dinner was bright and pleasant, and when the 
evening was over, Isobel said^to her uncle, “I think 
Captain Forster is very amusing, uncle.” 

“Yes,” the Major agreed, “he is a good talker, a 
regular society man ; he is no great favorite of mine ; I 
think he will be a little too much for us in a small sta- 
tion like this.” 

“ How do you mean too much, uncle?” 

The Major hesitated. 

“Well, he won’t have much to do with his troop of 
horse, and time will hang heavy on his hands. ” 

“Well, there is shooting, uncle.” 

“Yes, there is shooting, but I don’t think that is 
much in his line. Tiffins and calls, and society gener- 
ally, occupy most of his time, I fancy, and I think he is 
fonder of billiards and cards than is good for him, or 
others. Of course, being here by himself, as he is, we 
must do our best to be civil to him and that sort of 
thing, but if we were at Cawnpore he is a man I should 
not care about being intimate in the house. ” 

“ I understand, uncle ; but certainly he is pleasant. ” 

“Oh, yes, he is very pleasant,” the Major said dryly, 
in a tone that seemed to express that Forster’s power 
of making himself pleasant was by no means a recom- 
mendation in his eyes. 

But Captain Forster had apparently no idea whatever 
that his society could be anything but welcome, and 
called the next day after luncheon. 

“ I have been leaving my pasteboard at all the resi- 
dents’,” he said, “not a very large circle. Of course, I 
knew Mrs. Rintoul at Delhi, as well as Mrs. Doolan. 

I did not know any of the others. They seem pleasant 
people.” 

“ They are very pleasant, ” Isobel said. 

“ I left one for a man named Bathurst. He was out. 
Is that the Bathurst, Major Hannay, who was in a line 


154 . fN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

regiment, I forget its number, and left very suddenl\- 
in the middle of the fighting in the Punjaub?” 

“Yes. I believe Bathurst was in the army about 
that time,” the Major said; “but I don’t know any- 
thing about the circumstances of his leaving.” 

Had Captain Forster known the Major better, he 
would have been aware that what he meant to say was 
that he did not wish to know, but he did not detect the 
objection, and went on: 

“ They say he showed the white feather. If it is the 
same man, I was at school with him, and unless he has 
improved since then, I am sure I have no wish to re- 
new his acquaintance,” 

“ I like him very much,” the Major said shortly; “ he 
is great friends with Dr. Wade, who has the very high- 
est opinion of him, and I believe he is generally con- 
sidered to be one of the most rising young officers of 
his grade.” , 

“Oh, I have nothing to say against him,” Captain 
Forster said, “ but he was a poor creature at school, 
and I do not think that there was any love lost between 
us. Did you know him before you came here?” 

“ I only met him at the last races in Cawnpore,” the 
Major said, “he was stopping with the Doctor.” 

“Quite a character, Wade.” 

Isobel’s tongue was untied now. 

“ I think he is one of the kindest and best gentlemen 
that ever I met,” the girl said hotly. “He took care 
of me coming out here, and no one could have been 
kinder than he was.” 

“I have no doubt he is all that,” Captain Forster 
said gently; “still he is a character. Miss Hannay, 
taking the term character to mean a person who differs 
widely from other people. I believe he is very skilful 
in his profession, but I take it he is a sort of Abernethy, 
and tells the most startling truths to his patients,” 

“That I can quite imagine,” Isobel said. “The 
Doctor hates humbug of all sorts, and I don’t think I 
should like to call him in myself for an imaginary ail- 
ment.” 

“I rather put my foot in it .there,” Captain Forstei 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 1 55 

said to himself as he sauntered back to his tent. “ The 
Major didn’t like my saying anything against Bathurst, 
and the girl did not like my remark about the Doctor. 
I wonder whether she objected also to what I said 
about that fellow Bathurst; a sneaking little hound he 
was, and there is no doubt about his sho\^ng the white 
feather in the Punjaub. However, I don’t think that 
young lady is of the sort to care about a coward, and if 
she asks any questions, as I dare say she will after what 
I have said, she will find that the story is a true one. 
What a pretty little thing she is ! I did not see a pret- 
tier face all the time I was at home. What with her 
and Mrs. Doolan, time is not likely to hang so heavily 
here as I had ’expected.” 

The Major, afraid that Isobel might ask him some 
questions about this story of Bathurst leaving the army, 
went off hastily as soon as Captain Forster had left. 
Isobel sat impatiently tapping the floor with her foot, 
awaiting the Doctor, who usually came for half an 
hour’s chat in the afternoon. 

“ Well, child, how did your dinner go off yesterday 
and what did you think of your new visitor? I saw 
him come away from here half an hour ago. I suppose 
he has been calling.” 

“ I don’t like him at all,” Isobel said decidedly. 

“ No? Well, then, you are an exception to the gen- 
eral rule.” 

“I thought him pleasant enough last night,” Isobel 
said frankly. “ He has a deferential sort of way about 
him when he speaks to one that one can hardly help 
liking. But he made me angr)^- to-day. In the first 
place. Doctor, he said you were a character.” 

The Doctor chuckled. 

“ Well, that is true enough, my dear. There was no 
harm in that.” 

“ And then he said — ” and she broke off — “ he said 
what I feel sure cannot be true. He said that Mr. 
Bathurst left the army because he showed the white 
feather. It is not true, is it? I am sure it can’t be 
true.” 

The Doctor did not reply immediately. 


156 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“It is an old story,” he said presently, “and ought 
not to have been brought up again. I don’t suppose 
Forster or any one else knows the rights of the case. 
When a man leaves his regiment and retires when it 
is upon active service, there are sure to be spiteful 
stories getting about, often without the slightest foun- 
dation. But even if it had been true, it would hardly 
be to Bathurst’s disadvantage now he is no longer in 
the army, and courage is not a vital necessity on the 
part of a civilian.” 

“You can’t mean that. Doctor; surely, every man 
ought to be brave. Could any one possibly respect a 
man who is a coward? I don’t believe it. Doctor, for a 
moment.” ^ 

“ Courage, my dear, is not a universal endowment, it 
is a physical as much as a moral virtue ; some people 
are physically brave and morally cowards ; others al*e 
exactly the reverse. Some people are constitutionally 
cowards all round, while in others cowardice shows 
itself only partially. I have known a man who is as 
brave as a lion in battle, who was terrified by a rat. I 
have known a man brave in other respects lose his 
nerve altogether in a thunder-storm. In neither of these 
cases was it the man’s own fault; it was constitutional, 
and by no effort could he conquer it. I consider 
Bathurst to be an exceptionally noble character. I am 
sure that he is capable of acts of great bravery in some 
directions, but it is possible that he is, like the man I 
have spoken of, constitutionally weak in others.” 

“ But the great thing is to be brave in battle. Doctor! 
You would not call a man a coward simply because he 
was afraid of a rat, but you would call a man a coward 
who was afraid in battle. To be a coward there seems 
to me to be a coward all round. I have always thought 
the one virtue in man I really envied was bravery, and 
that a coward was the most despicable creature living. 
It might not be his actual fault, but one can’t help that. 
It is not any one’s fault if he is fearfully ugly or born 
an idiot, for example. But cowardice seems somehow 
different. Not to be brave when he is strong seems to 
put a man below the level of a woman. I feel sure. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 157 

Doctor, there must be some mistake, and that this story 
cannot be true. I have seen a good deal of Mr. Bathurst 
since we have been here, and you have always spoken 
so well of him, he is the last man I should have thought 
would be — would be like that.” 

“ I know the circumstances of the case, child. You 
can trust me when I say that there is nothing in 
Bathurst’s conduct that diminishes my respect for him 
in the slightest degree, and that in some respects he is 
as brave a man as any I know.” 

“Yes, Doctor, all that maybe; but you do not an- 
swer my question. Did Mr. Bathurst leave the army 
because he showed cowardice? If he did, and you 
knew it, why did you invite him here? why did you 
always praise him? why did you not say, ‘In other re- 
spects this man may be good and estimable, but he is 
that most despicable thing, a coward’?” 

There was such a passion of pain in her voice and 
face that the Doctor only said, quietly: “ I did not know 
it, my dear, or I should have told you at first that in 
this one point he was wanting. It is, I consider, the 
duty of those who know things to speak out. But he is 
certainly not what you say.” 

Isobel tossed her head impatiently. 

“ We need not discuss it. Doctor. It is nothing to 
me whether Mr. Bathurst is brave or hot, only it is not 
quitfe pleasant to learn that you have been getting on 
friendly terms with a man who ” 

“Don’t say any more,” the Doctor broke in. “You 
might at least remember he is a friend of mine. There 
is no occasion for us to quarrel, my dear, and to prevent 
the possibility of such a thing I will be off at once.” 

After he had left Isobel sat down to think over what 
had been said. He had not directly answered her 
questions, but he had not denied that the rumor that 
Bathurst had retired from the army because he was 
wanting in courage was well founded. Everything 
he had said, in fact, was an excuse rather than a 
denial. The Doctor was as stanch a friend as he was 
bitter an opponent. Could he have denied it he would 
have done so strongly and indignantly. 


158 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

It was clear that, much as he liked Bathurst, he 
lieved him wanting in physical courage. He had said, 
indeed, that he believed he was brave in some respects, 
and had asserted that he knew of one exceptional act 
of courage that he had performed ; but what was that if 
a man had had to leave the army because he was a 
coward? To Isobel it seemed that of all things it was 
most dreadful that a man should be wanting in courage. 
Tales of daring and braver)^ had always been her spe- 
cial delight, and, being full of life and spirit herself, it 
had not seemed even possible to her that a gentleman 
could be a coward, and that Bathurst could be so 
seemed to her well-nigh incredible. 

It might, as the Doctor had urged, be in no way his 
fault, but this did not affect the fact. He might be 
more to be pitied than to be blamed, but pity of that 
kind, so far from being akin to love, was destructive of it. 

Unconsciously she had raised Bathurst on a loft)" pin- 
nacle. The Doctor had spoken very highly of him. 
She had admired the energy with which, instead of 
caring as others did for pleasure, he devoted himself to 
his work. Older men than himself listened to his 
opinions. His quiet and somewhat restrained manner 
was in contrast to the careless fun and good-humor of 
most of those with whom she came in contact. It had 
seemed to her that he was a strong man, one who 
could be relied upon implicitly at all times, and she 
had come in the few weeks she had been at Deennug- 
ghur to rely upon his opinion, and to look forward to 
his visits, and even to acknowledge to herself that he 
approached her ideal of what a man should be more 
than any one else she had met. 

And now this was all shattered at a blow. He was 
wanting in man’s first attribute. He had left the 
army, if not in disgrace at least under a cloud, and 
even his warm friend the Doctor could not deny that 
the accusation of cowardice was well founded. The 
pain of the discovery opened her eyes to the fact which 
she had not before, even remotely, admitted to herself, 
that she was beginning to love him, and the discovery 
was a bitter one. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 1 59 

“I may thank Captain Forster for that at least,” she 
said to herself, as she angrily wiped a tear from her 
cheek ; “ he has opened my eyes in time. What should 
I have felt if I had found too late that I had come to 
love a man who was a coward — who had left the army 
because he was afraid? I should have despised myself 
as much as I should despise him. Well, that is my first 
lesson. I shall not trust in appearances again. Why, I 
would rather marry a man like Captain Forster, even 
if everything they say about him is true, than a man 
who is a coward. At least he is brave, and has shown 
himself so.” 

The Doctor had gone away in a state of extreme 
irritation. 

“ Confound the meddling scoundrel !” he said to him- 
self, as he surprised the horse with a sharp cut of the 
whip. “Just when things were going on as I wished. 
I had quite set my mind on it, and though I am sure 
Bathurst would never have spoken to her till he had 
told her himself about that unfprtunate failing of his, 
it would have been altogether different coming from 
his own lips just as he told it. to me. Of course, my 
own lips were sealed, and I could not put the case in 
the right light. I would give three months’ pay for 
the satisfaction of horsewhipping that fellow Forster. 
Still, I can’t say he did it maliciously, for he could not 
have known Bathurst was intimate there or that there 
was anything between them. The question is, Am I to 
tell Bathurst that she has heard about it? I suppose 
I had better. Ah, here is the Major,” and he drew up 
his horse. “Anything new. Major? You look put 
out.” ^ 

“ Yes, there is very bad news. Doctor. A Sowar has 
just brought a letter tome from the Colonel saying that 
the General has got a telegrapi that the 19th Native 
Infantry at Berhampore have refused to use the car- 
tridges served out to them, and that yesterday a Sepoy 
of the 34th at Barrackpore raised seditious cries in front 
of the lines, and when Baugh, the Adjutant, and the 
Sergeant-Major attempted to seize him he wounded 
them both, while the regiment stood by and refused to 


l6o IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

aid them. 'The 19th are to be disbanded, and no doubt 
the 34th will be too. ” 

“ That is bad news indeed, Major, and looks as if this 
talk about general disaffection were true. Had there 
been trouble but at one station it might have been the 
effect of some local grievance, but happening at two 
Xdaces, it looks as if it were part of a general plot. 
Well, we must hope it will go no farther.” 

“It is very bad,” said the Major, “but at any rate 
we may hope we shall have no troubles here; the regi- 
ment has always behaved well and I am sure they have 
no reason to complain of their treatment. If the Colo- 
nel has a fault it is that of over-leniency with the men.” 

“That is so,” the Doctor agreed, “but the fact is, 
Major, we know really very little about the Hindoo 
mind. We can say with some sort of certainty what 
Europeans will do under given circumstances, but 
though I know the natives, I think, pretty nearly as 
well as most men, I feel that I really know nothing 
about them. They appear mild and submissive, and 
have certainly proved faithful on a hundred battle- 
fields, but we don’t know whether that is their real 
character. Their own history, before we stepped in 
and altered its current, shows them as faithless, blood- 
thirsty, and cruel ; whether they have changed their 
nature under our rule, or simply disguised it, Heaven 
only knows.” 

“At any rate,” the Major said, “they have always 
shown themselves attached to their English officers. 
There are numberless instances where they have shown 
the utmost devotion for them, and although some 
scheming intriguers may have sown the seeds of discon- 
tent among them, and these lies about the cartridges 
may have excited their religious prejudices and may 
even lead them to mijtiny, I cannot believe for an 
instant that the Sepoys will lift their hands against 
their officers.” 

“I hope not,” the Doctor said gravely. “A tiger’s 
cub, when tamed, is one of the prettiest of playthings, 
but when it once tastes blood it is as savage a beast as 
its mother was before it. Of course, I hope for the 


. IN THE DAYS OF THE* MUTINY. i6l 

best, but if the Sepoys once break loose I would not 
answer for anything they might do. They have been 
pretty well spoilt, Major, till they have come to believe 
that it is they who conquered India and not we. ” 


CHAPTER XL 

That evening, after dining alone, the Doctor went in 
to Bathurst’s. The latter had already heard the news 
and they talked it over for some time. Then the Doc- 
tor said, “ Have you seen Forster, Bathurst, since he 
arrived?” 

“ No, I was out when he left his card ; I was at school 
with him. I heard when I was in England that he 
was out here in the native cavalry, but I have never 
run across him before, and I own I had no wish to do 
so. He was about two years older than I was, and was 
considered the cock of the school. He was one of my 
chief tormentors. I don’t know that he was a bully 
generally, fellows who are really plucky seldom are, 
but he disliked me heartilf', and I hated him. 

“ I had the habit of telling the truth when questioned, 
and he narrowly escaped expulsion owing to my refus- 
ing to tell a lie about his being quietly in bed when in 
fact he and two or three other fellows had been out at a 
public-house. He never forgave me for it, for he him- 
self would have told a lie without hesitation to screen 
himself, or, to do him justice, to screen anyone else; 
and the mere fact that I myself had been involved in 
the matter, having been sent out by one of the bigger 
fellows, and, therefore, having got myself a flogging by 
my admission, was no mitigation in his eyes of my 
offence of what he called sneaking. 

“ So you may imagine I have no particular desire to 
meet him again. Unless he has greatly changed, he 
would do me a bad turn if he had the chance.” 

“I don’t think he has greatly changed,” the Doctor 
said. “ That was really what I came in here for this 
evening, rather than to talk about this Sepoy business. I 


i 62 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


am sorry to say, Bathurst, that when he was in at the 
Major’s to-day, your name happened to be mentioned, 
and he said at once, ‘Is that the Bathurst who they say 
showed the white feather at Chillianwalla and left the 
army in consequence?’ ” 

Bathurst’s face grew pale and his fingers closed. He 
remained silent a minute and then said: “ It does not 
matter; she would have been sure to hear it sooner or 
later, and I should have told her myself if he had net 
done so; besides, if, as I am afraid, this Berhampore 
business is the beginning of trouble, and of such trouble 
as we have never had since we set foot in India, it is 
likely that every one will know what she knows now. 
Has she spoken to you about it? I suppose she has, or 
you would not have known that he mentioned it.” 

“Yes, she was most indignant about it, and did not 
believe it.” 

“ And what did you say, Doctor?” he asked indiffer- 
ently. 

“ Well, I was sorry I could not tell her exactly what 
you told me. It would have been better if I could 
have done so. I simply said there were many sorts of 
courage, and that I was sure that you possessed many 
sorts in a very high degree, but I could not, of course, 
deny, although I did not admit, the truth of the report 
he had mentioned.” 

“ I don’t think it makes much difference one way or 
the other,” Bathurst said wearily. “ I have known all 
along that Isobel Hannay would not marry a coward, 
only I have gone on living in a fool’s paradise. How- 
ever, it is over now ; the sooner it is all over the better. ” 

“My dear fellow,” the Doctor said earnestly, “don’t 
take this thing too much to heart. I don’t wish to 
try and persuade you that it is not a grave misfortune, 
but even suppose this trouble takes the very worst form 
possible, I do not think you will come so very badly 
out of it as you anticipate. Even assuming that you 
are unable to do your part in absolute fighting, there 
may be other' opportunities and most likely will, in 
which you may be able to show that, although unable 
to control your nerves in the din of battle, you possess 


IN THE t>AVS OF THE MUTINY. 


163 

in other respects coolness and courage. That feat of 
yours of attacking the tiger with the dog-whip shows 
conclusively that under many circumstances you are 
capable of most daring deeds.” 

Bathurst sat looking down for some minutes. “God 
grant that it may be so,” he said at last; “ but it is no 
use talking about it any more, Doctor. I suppose 
Major Hannay will keep a sharp lookout over the men.” 

“Yes, there was a meeting of the officers this after- 
noon. It was agreed to make no outward change, and 
to give the troops no cause whatever to believe that 
they are suspected. They all feel confident of the good 
will of the men ; at the same time they will watch them 
closely, and if the news comes of further trouble, they 
will prepare the court-house as a place of refuge.” 

“ That is a very good plan ; but, of course, everything 
depends upon whether, if the troops do rise in mutiny, 
the people of Oude join them. They are a fighting race, 
and if they should throw in their lot against us the 
position would be a desperate one.” 

“ Well, there is no doubt,” the Doctor said, “ that the 
Rajah of Bithoor would be with us; that will make 
Cawnpore safe, and will largely influence all the great 
Zemindars, though there is no doubt that a good many 
of them have been sulky ever since the disarmament 
order was issued. I believe there are few of them who 
have not got cannon hidden away or buried, and as for the 
people, the number of arms given tip was as nothing 
to what we know they possessed. In other parts of 
India I believe the bulk of the people will be with us; 
but here in Oude, our last annexation, I fear that they 
will side against us, unless all the great land-owners 
range themselves on our side.” 

“As far as I can see,” Bathurst said, “the people are 
contented with the change. I don’t say what I may call 
the professional fighting class, the crowd of retainers 
kept b)^ the great land-owners, who were constantly 
fighting against each other. Annexation has put a stop 
to all that, and the towns are crowded with these fight- 
ing men, who hate us bitterly; but the peasants, the 
tillers of the soil, have benefited greatly. They are no 


164 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 

longer exposed to raids by their powerful neighbors, 
and can cultivate their fields in peace and quiet. Un- 
fortunately their friendship, such as it is, will not 
weigh in the slightest degree in the event of a struggle. 
At any rate, I am sure they are not behind the scenes, 
and know nothing whatever of any coming trouble. 
Going, as I do, among them, and talking to them as 
one of themselves, I should have noticed it had there 
been any change in them ; and of late naturally I have 
paid special notice to their manner. Well, if it is to 
come I hope it will come soon, for anything is better 
than suspense.” 

Two days later Major Hannay read out to the men 
on parade an official document, assuring them that 
there was no truth whatever in the statements that 
had been made that the cartridges served out to them 
had been greased with pig’s fat. They were precisely 
the same as those that they had used for years, and 
the men were warned against listening to seditious per- 
sons who might try to poison their minds and shake 
their loyalty to the Government. He then told them 
that he was sorry to say that at one or two stations the 
men had been foolish enough to listen to disloyal coun- 
cils, and that in consequence the regiments had been 
disbanded and the men had forfeited all the advantages 
in the way of pay and pension they had earned by 
many years of good conduct. He said that he had no 
fear whatever of *any such trouble arising with them, 
as they knew that they had been well treated, that any 
legitimate complaint they might make had always been 
attended to, and that their officers had their welfare 
thoroughly at heart. 

When he had finished, the senior native officer 
stepped forward, and in the name of the detachment 
assured the Major that the men were perfectly contented, 
and would in all cases follow their officers, even if they 
ordered them to march against their countrymen. At 
the conclusion of his speech, he called upon the troops 
to give three cheers for the Major and officers, and this 
was responded to with a show of great enthusiasm. 

This demonstration was deemed very satisfactory, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 165 

and the uneasiness among the residents abated consid- 
erably, while the Major and his officers felt convinced 
that whatever happened at other stations, there would, 
at least, be no trouble at Deennugghur. 

1 “ Well, even you are satisfied, Doctor, I suppose,” the 

Major said, as a party of them who had been dining 
Avith Dr. Wade were smoking in the veranda. 

“ I was hopeful before. Major, and I am hopeful now, 
but I can’t say that to-day’s parade has influenced me 
in the slightest. Whatever virtues the Hindoo may 
have, he has certainly that of knowing how to wait. I 
believe, from what took place, that they have no inten- 
tion of breaking out at present. Whether they are wait- 
ing to see what is done at other stations, or until they 
receive a signal, is more than I can say; but their as- 
surances do not weigh with me to the .slightest extent. 
Their history is full of cases of perfidious massacre. I 
should say, ‘trust them as long as you can, but don’t re- 
lax your watch.’ ” 

“ You are a confirmed croaker,” Captain Rintoul said. 

“ I do not think so, Rintoul. I know the men I am 
talking about and I know the Hindoos generally. They 
are mere children and can be moulded like clay; as. 
long as we had the moulding, all went well, but if they 
fall into the hands of designing men they can be led in 
another direction just as easily as we have led them in 
ours. I own that I don’t see who can be sufficiently 
interested in the matter to conceive and carry out a 
great conspiracy of this kind. The King of Oude is a 
captive in our hands, the King of Delhi is too old to 
play such a part. Scindia and Holkar rh'ay possibly 
long for the powers their fathers possessed, but they 
are not likely to act together, and may be regarded as 
rivals rather than friends; and yet if it is not one of 
these who has been brewing this storm, I own I don’t 
see who can. be at the bottom of it, unless it has really 
originated from some ambitious spirits among the 
Sepoys, who look in the event of success to being 
masters of the destinies of India. It is a pity we did 
not get a few more views from that juggler, we might 
have known a little more of it then.” 


i66 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“Don’t talk about him, Doctor,” Wilson said; “it 
gives me the cold shivers to think of that fellow and 
what he did; I have hardly slept since then. It was 
the most creepy thing I ever saw. Richards and I have 
talked it over every evening we have been alone to- 
gether, and we can’t make head or tail of the affair. 
Richards thinks it wasn’t the girl at all who went up 
on that pole, but a sort of balloon in her shape. But 
then, as I say, there was the girl standing among us 
before she took her place on the pole. We saw her sit 
down and settle herself on the cushion so that she was 
balanced right. So it could not have been a balloon 
then, and if it were a balloon afterward, when did she 
change? At any rate the light below was sufficient to 
see well until she was forty or fifty feet up, and after 
that she shone out, and we never lost sight of her until 
she was ever so high ; I can understand the pictures, 
because there might have been a magic lantern some- 
where, but that girl trick, and the basket trick, and that 
great snake, are altogether beyond me.” 

“ So I should imagine, Wilson,” the Doctor said dryly, 
‘‘ and if I were you I would not bother my head about 
it. Nobody has succeeded in finding out any of them 
yet, and all the wondering in the world is not likely to 
get you any nearer to it.” 

“ That is what I feel. Doctor, but it is very riling to 
see things that you can’t account for anyhow. I wish 
he had sent up Richards on the pole instead of the girl. 

I would not have minded going up myself if he had 
asked me, though I expect I should have jumped off 
before it got up very far, even at the risk of breaking 
my neck.” 

“I should not mind risking that,” the Doctor said, 
“though I doubt whether I should have known any 
more about it when I came down; but these jugglers 
alv/ays bring a girl or a boy with them instead of calling 
somebody out from the audience, as they do. at home. 
Wdll, if things are quiet we will organize another hunt, 
Wilson. I have heard of a tiger fifteen miles away 
from where we killed our last, and you and Richards 
shall go with me if you like.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


167 

I should like it of all thing's, Doctor, provided it 
comes off by day. I don’t think I care about sitting 
through another night on a tree, and then not getting 
anything like a fair shot at the beast after all.” 

“ We will go by day,” the Doctor said. “ Bathurst has 
promised to get some elephants from one of the Zem- 
indars ; we will have a regular party this time. I have 
half promised Miss Hannay she shall have a seat in a 
howdah with me if the Major will give her leave, and 
in that case we will send out tents and make a regular 
party of it. What do you say. Major?” 

“ I am perfectly willing. Doctor, and have certainly 
no objection to trusting Isobel to your care. I know 
you are not likely to miss. ” 

“ No, I am not likely to miss, certainly; and besides, 
there will be Wilson and Richards to give him the coup 
de grace if I don’t finish him.” 

There was a general laugh, for the two subalterns 
had been chaffed a good deal at both missing the tiger 
on the previous occasion. 

“Well, when shall it be. Major?” 

“Not just at present, at any rate,” the Major said. 

“ We must see how things are going on. I certainly 
should not think of going outside the station now, nor 
could I give leave to any officer to do so; but if things 
settle down, and we hear no more of this cartridge 
business for the next ten days or a fortnight, we will 
see about it.” 

But although no news of any outbreak similar to 
that at Barrackpore was received for some days, the re- 
ports that came showed a wide-spread restlessness. At 
various stations all over India, fires, believed to be the 
work of incendiaries, took place, and there was little 
abatement of the uneasiness. It became known, too, 
that a native officer had before the rising of Berham- 
pore given warning of the mutiny, and had stated that 
there was a wide-spread plot throughout the native 
regiments to rise, kill their officers, and then march to 
Delhi, where they were all to gather. 

The story was generally disbelieved, although the 
actual rising had shown that, to some extent, the re- 


i68 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


port was well founded ; still men could not bring them- 
selves to believe that the troops among whom they had 
lived so long and who had fought so long for us could 
meditate such gross treachery, without having, as far 
as could be seen, any real cause for complaint. 

The conduct of the troops at Deennugghur was ex- 
cellent, and the Colonel wrote that at Cawnpore there 
were no signs whatever of disaffection, and that the 
Rajah of Bithoor had offered to come down at the head 
of his own troops should there be any symptoms of 
mutiny among the Sepoys. Altogether things looked 
better, and a feeling of confidence that there w'ould be 
no serious trouble spread through the station. 

The weather had set in very hot, and there was no 
stirring out now for the ladies between eleven o’clock 
and five or six in the afternoon. Isobel, however, gen- 
erally went in for a chat the first thing after early 
breakfast, with Mrs. Doolan, whose children were 
fractious with prickly heat. 

“I only wish we had some big, high mountain, my 
dear, somewhere within reach, where we could estab- 
lish the children through the summer and run away 
ourselves occasionally to look after them. We are very 
badly off here in Oude for that. You are looking very 
pale yourself the last few days. ” 

“I suppose I feel it a little,” Isobel said, “and of 
course this anxiety every one has been feeling worries 
one. Every one seems to agree that there is no fear of 
trouble with the Sepoys here; still, as nothing else is 
talked about, one cannot help feeling nervous about it. 
However, as things seem settling down now, I hope we 
shall soon get something else to talk about.” 

“I have not seen Mr. Bathurst lately,” Mrs. Doolan 
said presently. 

“Nor have we,” Isobel said quietly, “it is quite ten 
days since we saw him last.” 

“ I suppose he is falling back into his hermit ways,” 
Mrs. Doolan said carelessly, shooting a keen glance at 
Isobel, who was leaning over one of the children. 
“He quite emerged from his shell, for a bit. Mrs. 
Hunter was saying she never saw such a change in a 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


169 

man, but I suppose he has got tired of it. Captain 
Forster arrived just in time to fill up the gap. How 
do you like him, Isobel?” 

“He is amusing,” the girl said quietly; “I have 
never seen any one quite like him before; he talks in 
an easy, pleasant sort of way, and tells most amusing 
stories. Then, when he sits down by one he has the 
knack of dropping his voice and talking in a confidential 
sort of way, even when it is only about the weather. 
I am always asking myself how much of it is real, and 
what there is under the surface.” 

Mrs. Doolan nodded approval. 

“ I don’t think there is much under the surface, dear, 
and what there is is just as well left alone; but there is 
no doubt he can be delightful when he chooses, and very 
few women would not feel flattered by the attentions of 
a man who is said to be the handsomest officer in the 
Indian army, and who has besides distinguished him- 
self several times as a particularly dashing officer.” 

“I don’t think handsomeness goes for much in a 
man,” Isobel said shortly. 

Mrs. Doolan laughed. 

“ Why should it not go for as much as prettiness in a 
woman? It is no use being cynical, Isobel, it is part 
of our nature to admire pretty things, and as far as I 
can see an exceptionally handsome man is as legitimate 
an object of admiration as a lovely woman.” 

“Yes, to admire, Mrs. Doolan, but not to like.” 

“Well, my dear, I don’t want to be hurrying you 
away, but I think you had better get back before the 
sun gets any higher. You may say you don’t feel the 
heat much, but you are looking pale and fagged, and 
I' the less you are out in the sun the better.” 

Isobel had indeed been having a hard time during 
those ten days. At first she had thought of little but 
what she should do when Bathurst called. It seemed 
impossible that she could be exactly the same with him 
that she had been, that was quite out of the question, 
and yet how was she to be different? 

Ten days had passed without his coming. This was 
so unusual that an idea came into her mind which ter- 


1 70 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

rified her, and the first time when the Doctor came in 
and found her alone she said : “ Of course, Doctor 
Wade, you have not mentioned to Mr. Bathurst the 
conversation we had, but it is curious his not having 
been here since. ” 

“Certainly I mentioned it,” the Doctor said calmly, 
“how could I do otherwise? It was evident to me that 
he would not be welcomed here as he was before, and 
I could not do otherwise than warn him of the change 
he might expect to find, and to give him the reason 
for it. ” 

Isobel stood the picture of dismay. “ I don’t think 
you had any right to do so. Doctor,” she said. “You 
have placed me in a most painful position.” 

“ In not so painful as it would have been, my dear, 
if he had noticed the change himself, as he must have 
done, and asked for the cause of it.” 

Isobel stood twisting her fingers over each other be- 
fore her nervously. 

“ But what am I to do?” she asked. 

“ I do not see that there is anything more for you to 
do,” the Doctor said. “Mr. Bathurst may not be per- 
fect in all respects, but he is certainly too much of a 
gentleman to force his visits where they are not wanted. 
I do not say he will not come here at all, for not to do 
so after being here so much would create comment and 
talk in the station, which would be as painful to you as 
to him, but he certainly will not come here more often 
than is necessary to keep up appearances.” 

“I don’t think you ought to have told him,” Isobel 
replied, much distressed. 

“ I could not help it, my dear. You would force me 
to admit there was some - truth in the story Captain 
Forster told you, and I was therefore obliged to ac- 
quaint him with the fact or he would have had just 
cause to reproach me. Besides, you spoke of despising 
a man who was not. physically brave.” 

“ You never told him that. Doctor, surely you never 
told him that?” 

“ I only told what it was necessary he should know, 
my dear, namely, that you had heard the story, that 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


17T 

5^ou had questioned me, and that I, knowing the facts 
from his lips, admitted that there was some foundation 
for the story, while asserting that I was convinced that 
he was morally a brave man. He did not ask how you 
took the news, nor did I volunteer any information 
whatever on the subject, but he understood, I think, 
perfectly, the light in which you would view a coward. ” 

“But what am I to do when we meet. Doctor?” she 
asked piteously. 

“ I should say that you will meet just as ordinary ac- 
quaintances do meet. Miss Hannay. People are civil to 
others they are thrown with, however much they may 
distrust them at heart. You may be sure that Mr. 
Bathurst will make no allusion whatever to the mat- 
ter. I think I can answer for it that you will see 
no shade of difference in his manner. This has always 
been a heavy burden for him, as even the most care- 
less observer may see in his manner. I do not say that 
this is not a large addition to it, but I dare say he will 
pull through; and now I must be off.” 

“ You are very unkind. Doctor, and I never knew you 
unkind before.” 

“Unkind!” the Doctor repeated, with an air of sur- 
prise. “In what way? I love this young fellow. I 
had cherished hopes for him that he hardly perhaps 
ventured to cherish for himself. I quite agree with 
you thal what has passed has annihilated those hopes. 
You despise a man who is a -coward. I am not sur- 
prised at that. Bathurst is the last man in the world 
who would force himself upon a woman who despised 
him. I have done my best to save you from being 
obliged to make a personal declaration of your senti- 
ments. I repudiate altogether the accusation as being 
unkind. I don’t blame you in the slightest. I think 
that your view is the one that a young woman, of spirit 
would naturally take, I acquiesce in it entirely, • I will 
go farther, I consider it a most fortunate occurrence for 
you both that you found it out in time.” 

Isobel’s cheeks had flushed and paled several times 
while he was speaking; then she pressed her lips tightly 
together and, as he finished, she said, “I think. Doc- 


172 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


tor, it will be just as well not to discuss the matter 
further.” 

“I am quite of your opinion,” he said. “We will 
agree not to allude to it again. Good-by.” 

And then Isobel had retired to her room and cried 
passionately, while the Doctor had gone off chuckling to 
himself, as if he were perfectly satisfied with the state 
of affairs. 

During the week that had since elapsed, the Major 
had wondered and grumbled several times at Bathurst’s 
absence. 

“ I expect,” he said, one day when a note of refusal 
had come from him, “that he doesn’t care about meet- 
ing Forster. You remember Forster said they had 
been at school together, and from the tone in which he 
spoke it is evident that they disliked each other there. 
No doubt he has heard from the Doctor that Forster is 
frequently in here,” and the Major spoke rather irri- 
tably, for it seemed to him that Isobel showed more 
pleasure in the captain’s society than she should have 
done after what he had said to her about him ; indeed, 
Isobel, especially when the Doctor was present, ap- 
peared by no means to object to Captain Forster’s 
attentions. 

Upon the evening, however, of the day when Isobel 
had spoken to Mrs. Doolan, Bathurst came in, rather 
late in the evening. 

“ How are you, Bathurst?” the Major said cordially. 
“ Why, you have become quite a stranger. We haven’t 
seen you for over a fortnight. Do you know Captain 
Forster?” 

“We were at school together formerly, I believe,” 
Bathurst said quietly. “ We have not met since and I 
fancy we are both changed beyond recognition.” 

Captain Forster looked with surprise at the strong, 
well-knit figure. He had not before seen Bathurst and 
had pictured him to himself as a weak, puny man. 

“I certainly should not have known Mr. Bathurst,” 
he said. “ I have changed a great deal, no doubt, but 
he has certainly changed more.” 

There was no attempt on the part of either to shake 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 1 73 

hands. As they moved apart, Isobel came into the 
room. 

A quick flash of color spread over her face when upon 
entering she saw Bathurst talking to her uncle. Then 
she advanced, shook hands with him as usual, and said: 
“ It is quite a time since you were here, Mr. Bathurst. 
If every one was as full of business as you are, we 
should get on badly. ” 

Then she moved on without waiting for a reply and 
sat down, and was soon engaged in a lively conversa- 
tion with Captain Forster, while Bathurst a few minutes 
later, pleading that as he had been in the saddle all 
day he must go and make up the lost time, took his 
leave. 

Captain Forster had noticed the flush on Isobel ’s 
cheeks when she saw Bathurst, and had, drawn his own 
conclusions. 

“There has been a flirtation between them,” he said 
to himself, “but I fancy I have put a spoke in his wheel. 
She gave him the cold shoulder unmistakably. ” 

April passed, and as matters seemed to be quieting 
down, there being no fresh trouble at any of the sta- 
tions, the Major told Dr. Wade that he really saw no 
reason why the projected tiger hunt should not take 
place. The Doctor at once took the matter in hand, 
and drove out the next morning to the village from 
which he had received news about the tiger, had a long 
talk with the shikaris of the place, took a general view 
of the country, settled the line in which the beat should 
take place, and arranged for a large body of beaters to 
be on the spot at the time agreed on. 

Bathurst undertook to obtain the elephants from two 
Zemindars in the neighborhood, who promised to fur- 
nish six, all of which were more or less accustomed to 
the sport ; while the Major and Mr. Hunter, who had 
been a keen sportsman, although he had of late given 
up the pursuit of large game, arranged for a number 
of bullock-carts for the transport of tents and stores. 

Bathurst himself declined to be one of the party, 
which was to consist of Mr. Hunter and his eldest 
daughter, the Major and Isobel, the Doctor, the two 


174 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


subalterns, and Captain Forster. Captain Doolan said 
frankly that he was no shot, and more likely to hit one 
of the party than the tiger. Captain Rintoiil at first 
accepted, but his wife shed such floods of tears at the 
idea of his leaving her and going into danger that for 
the sake of peace he agreed to remain at home. 

Wilson and Richards were greatly excited over the 
prospect and talked of nothing else ; they were burning 
to wipe out the disgrace of having missed on the pre- 
vious occasion. Each of them interviewed the Doctor 
privately, and implored him to put them in a position 
where they were likely to have the first shot. Both 
used the same arguments, namely, that the Doctor had 
killed so many tigers that one more or less could make 
no difference to him, and if they missed, which they 
modestly admitted was possible, he could still bring 
the animal down. 

As the Doctor was always in a good temper when 
there was a prospect of sport, he promised each of them 
to do all that he could for them, at the same time 
pointing out that it was always quite a lottery which 
way the tiger might break out. 

Isobel was less excited than she would have thought 
possible over the prospect of taking part in a tiger 
hunt. She had many consultations to hold with Mrs. 
Hunter, the Doctor, and Rumzan, as to the food to be 
taken, and the things that would be absolutely neces- 
sary for camping out; for, as it was possible that the 
first day’s beat would be unsuccessful, they were to be 
prepared for at least two days’ absence from home. 
Tv/o tents were to be taken, one for the gentlemen, 
the other for Isobel and Mary Hunter. These with 
bedding and camp furniture, cooking utensils, and pro- 
visions were to be sent off at daybreak, while the party 
were to start as soon as the heat of the day was over. 

“I wish Bathurst had been coming,” Major Hannay 
said, as, with Isobel by his side, he drove out of the 
cantonment. “ He seems to have slipped away from us 
altogether, he has only been in once for the last three 
or four weeks. You haven’t had a tiff with him about 
anything, have you, Isobel? It seems strange his ceas- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


175 

ing so suddenly to come after our seeing so much of 
him.” 

“ No, uncle, I have not seen him except when you 
have. What put such an idea into your mind?” 

“I don’t know, my dear — young people do have tiffs 
sometimes about all sorts of trifles, though I should not 
have thought that Bathurst was the sort of man to do 
anything of that sort. I don’t think that he likes 
Forster, and does not care to meet him. I fancy that 
is at the bottom of it.” 

“ Very likely,” Isobel said innocently, and changed 
the subject. 

It was dark when they reached the appointed spot, 
and indeed from the point where they left the road a 
native with a torch had run ahead to show them the 
way. The tents looked bright;* two or three large fires 
were burning round them, and the lamps had already 
been lighted wuthin. 

“These tents do look cozy,” Mary Hunter said, as 
she and Isobel entered the one prepared for them. “ I 
do wish one always lived under canvas during the hot 
weather.” 

“They look cool,” Isobel said, “but I don’t suppose 
they are really as cool as the bungalows ; but they do 
make them comfortable. Here is the bath-room all 
ready and I am sure we want it after that dusty drive. 
Will you have one first, or shall I? We must make 
haste, for Rumzan said dinner would be ready fin half 
an hour. Fortunately, we shan’t be expected to do 
much in the way of dressing.” 

The dinner was a cheerful meal, and every one was 
in high spirits. 

The tiger had killed a cow the day before, and the 
villagers were certain that he had retired to a deep 
nullah round which a careful watch had been kept all 
day. Probably, he would steal out by night to make 
a meal from the carcass of the cow, but it had been 
arranged that he was to do this undisturbed and that 
the hunt was to take place by daylight. 

“ It is wonderful how the servants manage ever)"- 
thing, ” Isobel said. “Everything is just as well ar- 


176 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

ranged as it is at home. People would hardly believe 
in England, if they could see us sitting here, that we 
were only out on a two days’ picnic. They would be 
quite content there to rough it and take their meals 
sitting on the ground, or any way they could get them. 
It really seems ridiculous having everything like this.” 

“ There is nothing like making yourself comfortable,” 
the Doctor said; “and as the servants have an easy 
time of it generally, it does them good to bestir them- 
selves now and then. The expense of one or two extra 
bullock carts is nothing, and it makes all the differ- 
ence in comfort.” 

“ How far is the nullah from here. Doctor?” Wilson, 
who could think of nothing else but the tiger, asked. 

“ About two miles. It is just as well not to go any 
nearer. Not that he wDuld be likely to pay us a visit, 
but he might take the alarm, and shift his quarters. 
No, no more wine. Major, we shall want our blood 
cool in the morning. Now we will go out to look at 
the elephants, and have a talk with the mahouts, and 
find out which of the animals can be most trusted to 
stand steady. It is astonishing what a dread most ele- 
phants have of tigers. I was on one once that I was 
assured would face anything, and the brute bolted and 
went through some trees, and I was swept off the pad 
and was half an hour before I opened my eyes. It was 
a mercy I had not every rib broken. Fortunately I was 
a light weight, or I might have been killed. And I 
have seen the same sort of thing happen a dozen times, 
so we must choose a couple of steady ones, anyhow, for 
the ladies.” 

For the next hour they strolled about outside. The 
Doctor cross-questioned the mahouts and told off the 
elephants for the party; then there was a talk with the 
native shikaris, and arrangements made for the beat, 
and at an early hour all retired to rest. 

The morning was just breaking when they were 
called. Twenty minutes later they were assembled to 
take a cup of coffee before startin g. The el eph an ts were 
arranged in front of the tents, and they were just about 
to mount, when a horse was heard coming at a gallop. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. '177 

“Wait a moment,” the Major said, “it may be a 
message of some sort from the station. ” A minute later 
Bathurst rode in and reined up his horse in front of the 
tent. 

“Why, Bathurst, what brings you here? Changed 
your mind* at the last moment and found you could get 
away? That’s right, you shall come on the pad with 
me. 

“ No, I have not come for that, Major. I have 
brought a dispatch that arrived at two o’clock, this 
morning. Doolan opened it and came to me, and asked 
me to bring it on to. you, as I knew the way and where 
your camp was to be pitched.” 

“Nothing serious, I hope, Bathurst,” the Major said, 
struck with the gravity with which Bathurst spoke. 
“ It must be something important or Doolan would 
never have routed you off like that.” 

“It is very serious. Major,” Bathurst said, in a low 
voice. “ May I suggest you had be’tter go into the tent 
to read it? Some of the servants understand English.” 

“Come in with me,” the Major said, and led the way 
into the tent where the lamps were still burning on the 
breakfast-table, although the light had broadened out 
over the sky outside. It was with grave anticipation 
of evil that the Major took the paper from its envelope, 
but his worst fears were more* than verified by the con- 
tents : 

My dear Major: — The General has just received a tele- 
gram with terrible news from Meerut: “Native troops 
mutinied, murdered officers, women, and children, opened 
jails and burned cantonments, and marched to Delhi.” 
It is reported that there has been a general rising there 
and the massacre of all Europeans. Although this is not 
confirmed, the news is considered probable. We hear also 
that the native cavalry at Lucknow have mutinied. Law- 
rence telegraphs that he has suppressed it with the Euro- 
pean troops there, and has disarmed the mutineers. I 
believe that our regiment will be faithful, but none^ can 
be trusted now. I should recommend your preparing some 
fortified house to which all Europeans in station can re- 
treat in case of trouble. Now that they have taken to 
massacre as well as mutiny, God knows how it will all end. 

12 . ‘ 


178 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“Good heavens! who could have dreamt of this?” 
the Major groaned.’ “ Massacred their officers, women, 
and children. All Europeans at Delhi supposed to have 
been massacred, and there must be hundreds of them. 
Can it be true?” 

“ The telegram as to Meerut is clearly an official one, ” 
Bathurst said. “ Delhi is as yet but a rumor, but it is 
too probable that if these mutineers and jail-birds, 
flushed with success, reached Delhi before the whites 
were warned, they would have their own way in the 
place, as, with the exception of a few artillerymen at an 
arsenal, there is not a white soldier in the place.” 

“ But there were white troops at Meerut,” the Major 
said. “What could they have been doing? However, 
that is not the question now. We must, of course, re- 
turn instantly. Ask the others to come in here, Bath- 
urst. Don’t tell the girls what has taken place, it 
will be time enough for that afterward. All that is 
necessary to say is that you have brought news of 
troubles at some stations unaffected before, and that I 
think it best to return at once. ” 

The men were standing in a group wondering what 
the news could be which was deemed of such impor- 
tance that Bathurst should carry it out in the middle of 
the night. 

“ The Major will be glad if you will all go in, gen- 
tlemen,” Bathurst said, as he joined them. 

“Are we to go in, Mr. Bathurst?” Miss Hunter asked. 

“No, I think not. Miss Hunter; the fact is there have 
been some troubles at two or three other places, and 
the Major is going to hold a sort of council of war as 
to whether the hunt had not better be given up. I 
rather fancy that they will decide to go back at once. 
News flies very fast in India. I think the Major would 
like that he and his- officers should be back before it is 
whispered among the Sepoys that the discontent has 
not, as we hoped, everywhere ceased.” 

“It must be very serious,” Isobel said, “or uncle 
would never decide to go back, when all the prepara- 
tions are made.” 

“ It would never do, you see, Miss Hannay, for the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


179 


Commandant and four of the officers to be away, if 
the Sepoys should take it into their heads to refuse to 
receive cartridges or anything of that sort. ” 

“You can’t give us any particulars then, Mr. Bath- 
urst. “ 

“ The note was a very short one, and was partly 
made up of unconfirmed rumors. As I only saw it in 
my capacity of a messenger, I don’t think I am at lib- 
erty to say more than that.’’ 

“ What a trouble the Sepoys are!” Mary Hunter said,* 
pettishlj^; “it is too bad our losing a tiger hunt when 
we may never have another chance.” 

“That is a very minor trouble, Mary.” 

“I don’t think so,” the girl said; “just at present it 
seems to, be very serious.” 

At this moment, the Doctor put his head out of the 
tent. 

“ Will you come in, Bathurst?” 

“We have settled, Bathurst,” the Major said, when 
he entered, “ that we must of course go back at once. 
The Doctor, however, is of opinion that if, after all the 
preparations were made, we were to put the tiger hunt 
off altogether, it would set the natives talking, and the 
report would go through the country like wildfire that 
some great disaster had happened. 

“ We must go back at once, and Mr. Hunter having 
a wife and daughter there is anxious to get back too ; 
but the Doctor urges that he should go out and kill 
this tiger. As it is known that 5"ou have just arrived, 
he says that if you are willing to go with him, it will 
be thought that you had come here to join the hunt, 
and if the hunt comes off and the tiger is killed, it 
does not matter whether two or sixty of us went out or 
not. ” 

“ I shall be quite willing to do so,'” said Bathurst, 

“ and I really think that the Doctor’s advice is good. 
If, now that you have all arrived upon the ground, the 
preparations were all cancelled, there can be no doubt 
that the natives would come to the conclusion that 
something very serious had taken place, and it would 
be all over the place in no time/’ 


l8o IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“ Thank you, Bathurst. Then we will consider that 
arranged. Now we will get the horses in as soon as 
possible, and be off at once. ” 

Ten minutes later the buggies were brought round, 
and the whole party, with the exception of the Doctor 
and Bathurst, started for Deennugghur. 


CHAPTER XII. 

“Let us be off at once,” Doctor Wade said to his 
companion; “we can talk as we go along. I have got 
two rifles with me, I can lend you one.” 

“I shall take no rifle,” Bathurst said decidedly, “or 
rather I will take one of the shikari’s guns for the sake 
of appearance, and for use I will borrow one of their 
spears.” 

“Very well, I will do the shooting then,” the Doctor 
agreed. 

The two men then took their places on the elephants 
most used to the work, and told the mahouts of the 
others to follow in case the elephants should be re- 
qiiired for driving the tiger out of the thick jungle, 
and they then started side by side for the scene of 
action. 

“This is awful news, Bathurst. I could not have 
believed it possible that these fellows who have eaten 
our salt for years, fought our battles, and have seemed 
the most docile and obedient of soldiers, should have 
done this. That they should have been goaded into 
mutiny by lies about their religion being in danger I 
could have imagined well enough, but that they 
should go in for wholesale massacre, not only of their 
officers, but of women and children, seems well-nigh 
incredible. You and I have always agreed that if they 
were once roused there was no saying what they would 
do, but I don’t think either of us dreamed of anything 
as bad as this. ” 

“I don’t know,” Bathurst said quietly; “one has 
watched this cloud gathering, and felt that if it did 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. l8l 

break it would be something terrible. No one can 
foresee now what it will be. The news that Delhi is 
in the hands of the mutineers, and that these have 
massacred all Europeans, And so placed themselves 
beyond all hope of pardon, will fly through India like 
a flash of lightning, and there is no guessing how far 
Uhe matter will spread. There is ilo use disguising it 
from ourselves. Doctor — before a week is over there 
may not be a white man left alive in India, save garri- 
sons of strong places like Agra, and perhaps the Presi- 
dential towns where there is always a strong Euro- 
pean force.” 

“ I can’t deny that it is possible, Bathurst. If this 
revolt spreads through the three presidencies the work 
of conquering India will have to be begun again ; and 
worse than that, for we should have opposed to us a 
vast army drilled and armed by ourselves, and led by 
the native officers we have trained. It seems stupefy- 
ing that an empire won piecemeal, and after as hard 
fighting as the world has ever seen, should be lost in a 
week.” 

The Doctor spoke as if the question was a purely 
impersonal one. 

“Ugly, isn’t it?” he went on, “and to think I have, 
been doctoring up these fellows for the last thirty years. 
Saving their lives, sir, by wholesale; if I had known 
what had been coming I would have dosed them with 
arsenic with as little remorse as I should feel in shoot- 
ing a tiger’s whelp. Well, there is one satisfaction, 
the Major has already done something toward turning 
the court-house into a fortress, and I fancy a good 
many of the scoundrels will go down before they take 
it — that is, if they don’t fall on us unawares. I have 
been a non-combatant all my life, but if I can shoot a 
tiger on the spring I fancy I can h;t a Sepoy. By Jove ! 
Bathurst, that juggler’s picture you told me of is likely 
to come true, after all.” 

“I wish to Heaven it was,” Bathurst said gloomily. 

“ I could look without dread at whatever is coming as 
far as I am concerned, if I could believe it possible 
that I should be fighting as I saw myself there, ” 


i 82 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“Pooh, nonsense, lad!*’ the Doetor said. “Knowing 
what I know of you, I have no doubt that though you 
may feel nervous at first, you will get over it in time.” 

Bathurst shook his head. “ I know myself too well. 
Doctor, to indulge in any such hopes. Now you see 
we are going out tiger hunting. At present, now, as 
far as I am eoncerned, I should feel much less nervous 
if I knew I was going to enter the jungle on foot with 
only this spear, than 1 do at the thought that you are 
going to fire that rifle a few paces from me.” 

“You will scarcely notice it in the excitement,” the 
Doctor said. “ In cold blood I admit you might feel it, 
but I don’t think you will when you see the tiger spring 
out from the jungle at us. But here we are. That is 
the nullah in which they say the tiger retires at night. 
I expect the beaters are lying all round in readiness, 
and as soon as we have taken up our station at its 
mouth they will begin.” 

A shikari came up as they approached the spot. 

“The tiger went out lavSt night. Sahib, and finished 
the cow ; he came back before daylight, and the beaters 
are all in readiness to begin.” 

The elephants were soon in position at the mouth of 
the ravine, which was some thirty yards across. At 
about the same distance in front of them the jungle of 
high, coarse grass and thick bush began. 

“ If you were going to shoot, Bathurst, we would take 
post one each side, but as you are not going to I will 
place myself nearly in the centre, and if you are be- 
tween me and the rocks the tiger is pretty certain to 
go on the other side, as it will seem the most open to 
him. Now we are ready,” he said to the shikari. 

The later waved a white rag on the top of a long 
stick, and at the signal a tremendous hubbub of gongs 
and tom-toms, mingled with the shouts of numbers of 
the men, arose. The Doctor looked across at his com- 
panion. His face was white and set, his muscles 
twitched convulsively; he was looking straight in front 
of him, his teeth set hard. 

“An interesting case,” the Doctor muttered to him- 
self, “ if it had been any one else than Bathurst, I 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 183 

expect the tiger will be some little time before it is 
down, Bathurst,” he said, in a quiet voice. Three 
times he repeated the observation, each time raising 
his voice higher, before Bathurst heard him. 

“The sooner it comes the better,” Bathurst said be- 
tween his teeth. “ I would rather face a hundred 
tigers than this infernal din.” ^ 

A quarter of an hour passed, and the Doctor, rifle in 
hand, was watching the bushes in front, when he saw 
a slight movement among the leaves on his right, the 
side on which Bathurst was stationed. 

“That’s him, Bathurst; he has headed back; he 
caught sight of either your elephant or mine ; he will 
make a bolt in another minutb now unless he turns 
back on the beaters. ” 

A minute later there was a gleam of tawny yellow 
among the long grass, and quick as thought the Doctor 
fired. With a sharp snarl the tiger leaped out and with 
two short bouiids sprang on to the head of the elephant 
ridden by Bathurst. The mahout gave a cry of pain, 
for the tglons of one of the forepaws was fixed in his 
leg. Bathurst leaned forward and thrust the spear he 
held deep into the animal’s neck. At the same mo- 
ment the Doctor fired again, and the tiger shot through 
the head fell dead, while with a start Bathurst lost his 
balance and fell over the elephant’s head on to the body 
of the tiger. 

It was fortunate indeed for him that the ball had 
passed through the tiger’s skull from ear to ear, and 
’'that life was extinct before it touched the ground. 
^Bathurst sprang to his feet, shaken and bewildered, 
but otherwise unhurt. 

“He is as dead as a door nail,” the Doctor shouted, 
“ and lucky for you he was so ; if he had 'had a kick left 
in him you would have been badly torn. ” 

“ I should never have fallen off, ” Bathurst said angrily, 
“ if you had not fired. I could have finished him with 
a spear. ” 

“ You might or you might not, I could not wait to 
think about that; the tiger had struck its claws into the 
mahout’s leg, and would have had him off the elephant 


184 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

in another moment. That is a first-rate animal you 
were riding on or he would have turned and bolted ; if 
he had done so you and the mahout would have both 
been off to a certainty.” 

By this time, the shouts of some natives, who had 
taken their posts in some trees near, told the beaters 
that the shots they had heard had been successful, and 
with shouts of satisfaction they came rushing down. 
The Doctor at once dispatched one of them to bring 
up his trap and Bathurst’s horse, and then examined 
the tiger. 

It was a very large one, and the skin was in good 
condition, which showed that he had not taken to man- 
eating long. The Doctor bound up the wound on the 
mahout’s leg, and then superintended the skinning of 
the animal while waiting for the arrival of the trap. 

When it came up, he said, “You might as well take 
a seat by my side, Bathurst ; the syce will sit behind 
and lead your horse. ” 

Having distributed money among the betters-, the 
Doctor took his place in his trap, the tiger skin was 
rolled up and placed under the seat, Bathurst mounted 
beside him, and they started. 

“ There, you see. Doctor, ” Bathurst, who had not 
opened his lips from the time he had remonstrated 
with the Doctor for firing, said, “you see it is of no 
use. I was not afraid of the tiger, for I knew that you 
were not likely to miss, and that in any case it could 
not reach me on the elephant. I can declare that I had 
not a shadow of fear of the beast, and yet directly that 
row began, my nerves gave way altogether. It is hide- 
ous, and yet the moment the tiger charged I felt per- 
fectly cool again, for the row ceased as you fired your 
first shot. I struck it just behind the shoulder, and I 
was about to thrust the spear right down and I believe 
should have killed it if you had not fired again and 
startled me so that I fell from the elephant.” 

“ I saw that the shouting and noise unnerved you, 
Bathurst, but I saw too that you were perfectly cool 
and steady when you planted your spear into him. If 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 185 

it had not got hold of the mahout’s leg, I should not 
have fired.” 

‘‘ Is there nothing to be done, Doctor? You know 
now what it is likely we shall' have to face with the 
Sepoys, and what it will be with me if they rise. Is 
there nothing you can do for me?” 

The Doctor shook his head. “ I (lon’t believe in 
Dutch courage in any case, Bathurst. Certainly not in 
yours. There is no saying what the effect of spirits 
might be. I should not recommend them, lad. Of 
course^ I can understand your feelings, but I still believe 
that even if you do badly to begin with, you will pull 
round in the end. I have no doubt you will get a 
chance to show that it is only nerve and not courage in 
which you are deficient. ” 

Bathurst was silent, and scarce another word was 
spoken during the drive back to Deennugghur. 

The place had its accustomed appearance until they 
drove up. The Doctor, as he drew up before his bunga- 
low, said, “ Thank God, they have not begun yet. I 
was half afraid we might have found they had taken 
idvantage of most of us being away, and have broken 
out before we got back. ” 

“So was I,” Bathurst said. “I have been thinking 
of nothing else since we started.” 

“Well, I will go to the Major at once and see what 
arrangements have been made, and whether there is 
any further news.” 

“I shall go off on my rounds,” Bathurst said. “I 
had arranged yesterday to be at Nilpore this morning, 
and there will be time for me to get there now. It is 
only eleven o’clock yet. I shall go about my work as 
usual until matters come to a head.” 

The Doctor found that the Major was over at the 
tent which served as the orderly office, and at once 
followed him there. 

“ Nothing fresh. Major?” 

“No; .we have found everything going on as usual. 
It has been decided to put the court-house as far as we 
can in a state of defence. I shall have the spare am- 
munition quietly takon over there, with stores of pro* 


i86 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


visions. The ladies have undertaken to sew up sacking 
and make gunny bags for holding earth, and of course 
we shall get a store of water there. Everything will 
be done quietly at present, and things will be sent in 
there by such servants as we can thoroughly rely upon, 
after dark. At the first signs of trouble the residents 
will make straight for that point. Of course we must 
be guided by circumstances. If the trouble begins in 
the daytime — that is, if it does begin, for the native 
officers assure us that we can trust implicitly in the 
loyalty of the men — there will probably be time for 
every one to gain the court-house; if it is at night, and 
without warning, as it was at Meerut, I can only say. 
Doctor, may God help us all, for I fear that few, if any, 
of us would get there alive. Certainly not enough to 
make any efficient defence.” 

“ I do not see that there is anything else to do. Major. 
I trust with you that the men will prove faithful; if 
not, it is a black lookout whichever way we take it.” 

“ Did 5’'ou kill the tiger, Doctor?” 

“Yes; at least Bathurst and I did it between us. I 
wounded him first. It then sprang upon Bathurst’s 
elephant, and he speared it, and I finished it with a 
shot through the head. ” 

“Speared it!” the Major repeated; “why didn’t he 
shoot it? What was he doing with his spear?” 

“ He was born, Major, with a constitutional horror of 
fire-arms, inherited from his mother. I will tell you 
about it some day. In fact, he cannot stand noise of 
any sort. It has been a source of great trouble to the 
young fellow, who in all other respects has more than a 
fair share of courage. However, we will talk about that 
when we have more time on our hands. There is no 
special duty you can give me at present?” 

“Yes, there is. You are in some respects the most 
disengaged man in the station, and can come and go 
vdthout attracting any attention. I propose, therefore, 
that you shall take charge of the arrangement of mat- 
ters in the court-house- I think that it will be an ad- 
vantage if you move from your tent into the court- 
}aouse, There is plenty of room there, There is no 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


187 

saying at what time there may be trouble with the 
Sepoys, and it would be a great advantage to have 
some one in the court-house who could take the lead if 
the women, with the servants and so on, come flocking 
in while we were still absent on the parade ground." 
Besides, with your rifle, you could drive any small 
party off who attempted to seize it by surprise. If 
you were there we would call it the hospital, which 
would be an excuse for sending in stores, -bedding, and 
so on. 

“You might mention in the orderly room that it is 
getting so hot now that you think it would be as well 
to have a room or two fitted up under a roof, instead of 
having the sick in tents, in case’ there should be an 
outbreak of cholera or anything of that sort this year. 

I will say that I think the idea is a very good cftie, and 
that as the court-house is very little used, you had 
better establish yourself there. The native officers who 
hear what we say will spread the news. I don’t say it 
will be believed, but at least it will serve as an expla- 
nation.” 

“ Yes, I think that that will be a very good plan. 
Major. Two of the men who act as hospital orderliej^I 
can certainly depend upon, and they will help to re- 
ceive the things sent in from the bungalows, and will 
hold their tongues as to what is being done ; I shall 
leave my tent standing and use it in the daytime as 
before, but will make the court-house my headquarters. 
How are we off for arms?” 

“ There are five cases of muskets and a considerable 
stock of ammunition in that small magazine in the 
lines; one of the first things will be to get them re- 
moved to the court-house. We have already arranged 
to do that to-nighit, it will give us four or five muskets 
apiece.” 

“ Good, Major. I will load them all myself and 
keep them locked up in a room upstairs facing the 
gateway, and should there be any trouble I fancy I 
could give a good aocount of any small body of men 
who might attempt to make an entrance; I am very 
well cojitent with my position as gommandant of the 


1 88 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

hospital, let us call it; the house has not been much 
good to us hitherto, but I suppose when it was bought 
it was intended to make this a more important station ; 
it is fortunate they did buy it now, for we can cer- 
tainly turn it into a small fortress. Still, of course, I 
cannot disguise from myself that though we might get 
on successfully for a time against your Sepoys, there is 
no hope of holding it long if the whole country rises.”' 

“I quite see that. Doctor,” the Major said gravely, 
“ but I have really no fear of that. With the assistance 
of the Rajah of Bithoor, Cawnpore is safe. His exam- 
ple is almost certain to be followed by almost all the 
other great land-owners. No, it is quite bad enough 
that we have to face-a Sepoy mutiny. I cannot believe 
that we are likely to have a general rising on our 
hands.- If we do ” and he stopped. 

“ If we do it is all up with us. Major, there is no dis- 
guising that. However, we need not look at the worst 
side of things. Well, I will go with you to the orderly 
room, and will talk with you about the hospital scheme, 
mention that there is a rumor of cholera, and so on, 
and ask if I can’t have a part of the court-house; then 
we can walk across there together, and see what ar- 
rangement had best be made.” 

The following day brought another dispatch from 
the Colonel, saying that the rumors as to Delhi were con- 
firmed: the regiments there had joined the Meerut 
mutineers, had shot down their officers and murdered 
every European they could lay hands on, that three 
officers and six non-commissioned officers who were in 
charge of the magazine had defended it desperately, 
and had finally blown up the magazine with hundreds 
of its assailants. Three of the defenders had reached 
Meerut with the news. 

Day by day the gloom thickened; the native regi- 
ments in the Punjaub rose as soon as the news from 
Meerut and Delhi reached them, but there were white 
troops there, and they were used energetically and 
promptly. In some places the* mutineers were dis- 
armed- before they broke out into open violence; in 
Qtber mutinous regiments wore promptly at' 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 189 

tacked and scattered. Several of the leading chiefs had 
hastened to assure the Government of their fidelity, 
and had placed their troops and resources at its dis- 
posal. 

But in the Punjaub alone the lookout appeared favor- 
able. In the Daob, a mutiny had taken place at four 
of the stations, and the Sepoys had marched away to 
Delhi, but without injuring the Europeans. 

After this for a week there was quiet, and then at 
places widely apart— at Hansidand Hissar, to the north- 
west of Delhi; at Nusserabad, in the centre of Raj- 
pootana, at Bareilly and other, stations in Rohilcund, 
the Sepoys rose, and in most places massacre was added 
to mutiny. Then three regiments of the Gwalior con- 
tingent at Meemuch revolted. Then the two regiments 
broke out at Jhansi, and the whole of the Europeans, 
after desperately defending themselves for four days, 
surrendered on promise of their lives, but were in- 
stantly murdered. 

But before the news of the Jhansi massacre reached 
Deennugghur, they heard of other risings nearer to 
them. On the 30th of May the three native regiments 
at Lucknow rose, but were sharply repulsed by the 
three hundred European troops under Sir Henry Law- 
rence. At Seetapoor the Sepoys rose on the 3d of 
June, and massacred all the Europeans. On the 4th 
the Sepoys at Mohundee imitated the example of those 
at Seetapoor; while on the 8th two regiments rose at 
Fyzabad, in the southeastern division of the province, 
and massacred all the Europeans. 

Up to this time the news from Cawnpore had still 
been good. The Rajah of Bithoor had offered Sir 
Hugh Wheeler reinforcements of two guns and 300 
men, and it was believed that seeing this powerful and 
influential chief had thrown his weight into the scale 
on the side of the British, the four regiments of native 
troops would remain quiet. 

Sir Hugh had but a handful of Europeans with him, 
but had just received a reinforcement of 50 men of the 
32d regiment from Lucknow, and he had formed an 
entrenchment within which the Europeans of the sta- 


190 IN THE HAYS Of THE MUTINY. 

tion and the fugitives who had come in from the dis- 
tricts around could take refuge. 

Several communications passed between Sir Hugh 
Wheeler and Major Hannay; the latter had be^n offered 
the choice of moving into Cawnpore with his wing of 
the regiment, or remaining at Deennugghur. He had 
chosen the latter alternative, pointing out that he still 
believed in the fidelity of the troops with him ; but 
that if they went to Cawnpore they would doubtless be 
carried away with the other regiments, and would only 
swell the force of mutineers there. He was assured, 
at any rate,* they would not rise unless their comrades 
at Cawnpore did so, but that it was best to manifest 
confidence in them, as not improbably, did they hear 
that they were ordered back to Cawnpore, they might 
take it as a slur on their fidelity and mutiny at once. 

The month had been one of intense anxiety. , Gradu- 
ally stores of provisions had been conveyed into the 
hospital, as it was now called. The well inside of The 
yard had been put into working order, and the residents 
had sent in stores of bedding and such portable valua- 
bles as could be removed. 

In but few cases had the outbreaks taken place at 
night, the mutineers almost always breaking out either 
upon being ordered to parade or upon actually falling- 
in; still it was by no means certain w^hen a crisis might 
come, and the Europeans all lay down to rest in their 
clothes, one person in each house remaining up all 
night on watch, so that at the first alarm all might 
hurry to the shelter of the hospital. 

Its position was a strong one. A lofty wall enclosing 
a court-yard and garden surrounding it; this com- 
pletely sheltered the lower floor from fire. The windows 
of the upper floor were above the level of the wall and 
commanded a view over the country, while round the 
flat-terraced roof ran a parapet some two feet high. 

During the day the ladies of the station generally 
gathered at Mr. Hunter’s, which was the bungalow 
nearest to the hospital. Here they worked at the bags 
intended to hold earth, and kept up each other’s spirits 
as well as they could. Although all looked pale and 


IN fHE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. ^ I91 

worn from anxiety and watching, there were, after the 
first few days, no manifestations of fear. .Occasionally 
a tear would drop over their work, especially in the 
case of two of the wives of civilians, whose children 
were in England; but as a whole their conversation 
was cheerful, each trying her best to keep up the spirits 
of the others. Generally, as soon as the meeting was 
complete, Mrs. Hunter read aloud one of the psalms 
suited to their position and the prayers for those in 
danger, then the work was got out and the needles 
applied briskly. Even Mrs. Rintoul showed a forti- 
tude and courage that would not have been expected 
from her. 

“ One never knows people,” Mrs. Doolan said to 
Isobel, as they walked back from one of these meetings, 
“as long as one only sees them under ordinary circum- 
stances. I have never had any patience with Mrs. 
Rintoul, with her constant complaining and imaginary 
ailments. Now that there is really something to com- 
plain about she is positively one of the calrnest and 
most cheerful among us. It is curious, is it not, how 
our talk always turns upon home? India is hardly ever 
mentioned. We might be a party of intimate friends, 
sitting in some quiet country place, talking of our girl- 
hood. Why, we have learned more of each othei; and 
each other’s history the last fortnight than we should 
have done if we had lived here together for twenty 
years under ordinary circumstances. Except as to your 
little brother I think you are the only one, Isobel, who 
has not talked much of home. ” 

“ I suppose it is because my home was not a very 
happy one,” Isobel said. 

“ I notice that all the talk is about happy scenes, 
nothing is ever said about disagreeables. I suppose, 
my dear, it is just as I have heard, that starving people 
talk about the feasts they have eaten, so we talk of the 
pleasant times we have had. It is the contrast that 
makes them dearer. It is funny too, -if anything can 
be funny in these days, how different we are in the 
evening, when we have the men with us, to what we 
are when we are together alone in the day. Another 


192 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


curious thing is that our trouble seems to make us more 
like each other. Of course we are not more like, but 
we all somehow take the same tone, and seem to have 
given up our own particular ways and fancies. 

“ Now, the men don’t seem like that. Mr. Hunter, 
for example, whom I used to think an even-tempered 
and easy-going sort of a man, has become fidgetty and 
querulous. The Major is even more genial and kind 
than usual. The Doctor snaps and snarls at every one 
and everything. Any one listening to my husband 
would say that he was in the wildest spirits. Rintoul 
is quieter than usual, and the two lads have grown 
older and nicer; I don’t say they are less full of fun 
than they were, especially Wilson, but they are less 
boyish in their fun, and they are nice with every one, 
instead of devoting themselves to two or three of us, 
you principally. Perhaps Richards is the most changed ; 
he thinks less of his collars and ties and the polish of 
his boots than he used to do, and one sees that he has 
some ideas in his head besides those about horses. Cap- 
tain Forster is, perhaps, least changed, but of that you 
can judge better than I can, for you see more of him. 
As to Mr. Bathurst I can say nothing, for we never see 
him now. I think he is the only man in the station 
who goes about his work as usual; he starts away the 
first thing in the morning and comes back late in the 
evening, and I suppose spends the night in writing 
reports, though what is the use of writing reports at the 
present time I don’t know. Mr. Hunter was saying 
last night it was very foolish of him. What with dis- 
banded soldiers and what with parties of mutineers it 
is most dangerous for any European to stir outside the 
station.” 

“Uncle was saying the same,” Isobel said quietly. 
“ Well, here we separate. Of course .you will be in as 
usual this evening?” for the Major’s house was the 
general rendezvous after dinner. 

Isobel had her private troubles, although, as she 
often said to herself angrily, when she thought of 
them, what did it matter now? She was discontented 
with herself for having spoken as strongly as she did 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


193 


as to the man’s cowardice. She was very discontented 
with the Doctor for having repeated it. She was angry 
with Bathurst for staying away altogether, although 
willing to admit that after he knew what she had said, 

it was impossible that he should meet her as before. 

Most of all, perhaps, she was angry because at a time 
when their lives were all in deadly peril she should 
allow the matter to dwell in her mind a single moment. 

Late one afternoon, Bathurst walked into the Major’s 
bungalow just as he was about to sit down to dinner. 

“Major, I want to speak to you for a moment,’’ he 
said. 

Sit down and have some dinner, Bathurst. You 
have become altogether a stranger.” 

“ Thank you. Major, but I have a great deal to do. 
Can you spare me five rriinutes now? It is of impor- 
tance.” 

Isobel rose to leave the room. 

“ There is no reason you should not hear. Miss Han- 
nay, but it would be better that none of the servants 
should be present. That is why I wish to speak before 
your uncle goes in to dinner.” 

Isobel sat down with an air of indifference. 

“ For the last week. Major, I have ridden every day 
five-and-twenty to thirty miles in the direction of Cawn- 
pore ; my official work has been practically at an end 
since we heard the news fro'm Meerut. I could be of 
no use here, and thought that I could do no better ser- 
vice than trying to obtain the earliest news from Cawn- 
pore. I am sorry to say that this afternoon I distinctly 
heard firing in that direction. What the result is of 
course I do not know, but I feel that there is little doubt 
that troubles have begun there. But this is not all. 
On my return home, ten minutes ago, I found this 
letter on my dressing-table. It had no direction, and 
is, as you see, in Hindoostan,” and he handed it to the 
Major, who read : 

To THE Sahib Bathurst : — Rising at Cawnpore to-day. 
Nana Sahib and his troops will join the Sepoys. Whites 
will be destroyed. Rising at Deennugghur at daylight to- 
morrow. Troops after killing whites will join those at 

^3 


194 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Cawnpore. Be warned in time, this tiger is not to be 
beaten off with the whip. 

“Good heavens!” the Major exclaimed, “can this be 
true? Can it be possible that the Rajah of Bithoor is 
going to join the mutineers? It is impossible, he could 
never be such a scoundrel.” 

“What is it, uncle?” Isobel asked, leaving her seat 
and coming up to him. 

The Major translated the letter. 

“ It must be a hoax,” he went on; “I cannot believe 
it. What does this stuff about beating a tiger with a 
whip mean?” 

“ I am sorry to say. Major Hannay, that part of the 
letter convinces me that the contents can be implicitly 
relied upon. The writer did not dare sign his name, 
but those words are sufficient to show me, and were no 
doubt intended to show me, who the warning comes 
from. It is from that juggler who performed here 
some six weeks ago. Going about as he does, and put- 
ting aside altogether those strange powers of his, he 
has no doubt the means of knowing what is going 
on. As I told you that night, I had done him some 
slight service, and he promised at the time that if the 
occasion should ever rise, he would risk his life to save 
mine. The fact that he showed, I have no doubt, es- 
pecially to please me, the feat that few Europeans have 
seen before, is, to my mind, a proof of his good will 
and that he meant what he said. ” 

“ But how do you know that it is from him, Bathurst? 
You will excuse my pressing the question, but, of 
course, everything depends on my being assured 'that 
this communication is trustworthy. ” 

“This allusion to the tiger shows me that. Major; it 
alludes to an incident that I believe to be known only 
to him and his daughter and to Dr. Wade, to whom 
alone I mentioned it. ” 

As the Major still looked inquiringly, Bathurst went 
on reluctantly. “It was a trifling affair. Major, the 
result of a passing impulse. I was riding home from 
Narkeet, and in coming along the road through the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


195 


jungle, which was at that time almost deserted by the 
natives on account of the ravages of the man-eater, 
which the Doctor afterward shot, I heard a scream! 
Galloping forward, I came upon the brute, standing 
with one paw upon a prostrate girl, while a man, the 
juggler, was standing frantically waving his arms. On 
the impulse of the moment, .1 sprang from my horse 
and lashed the tiger across the head with that heavy 
dog-whip I carry, and the brute was so astonished that 
it bolted in the jungle. 

“ That was the beginning and end of affairs, except 
that, though fortunately the girl was practically un- 
hurt, she was so unnerved that we had to carry her to 
the next village, where she lay for some time ill from 
the shock of fright. After that, they came round here 
and performed, for my amusement, the feats I told 
you of. So you see I have every reason to believe in 
the good faith of the writer of this letter.” 

“By Jove! I should think you had,” the Major said, 
“ Why, my dear Bathurst, I had no idea that you could 
do such a thing. ” 

“ We have all our strong points and our weak ones. 
Major. That was one of my strong ones, I suppose. 
And now what had best be done, sir? That is the im- 
portant question at present.” 

This was so evident that Major Hannay at once dis- 
missed all other thoughts from his mind. 

“ Of course I and the other officers must remain at 
our posts until the Sepoys actually arrive. The ques- 
tion is as to the others. Now that we know the worst, 
or believe we know it, ought we to send the women 
and children away?” 

“ That is the question, sir. But where can they be 
sent? Lucknow is besieged. The whites at Cawnpore 
must have been surrounded by this time. The bands 
of mutineers are ranging the whole country, and at the 
news that Nana Sahib has joined the rebels it is proba- 
ble that all will rise. I should say that it was a matter 
in which Mr. Hunter and other civilians had better be 
consulted.” 

Yes, we will hold a council,” the Major said. 


196 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“I think, Major, it should be done quietly. It is 
probable that many of the servants may know of the 
intentions of the Sepoys, and if they see that anything 
like a council of the Europeans has been held, they may 
take the news to the Sepoys, and the latter, thinking 
that their intention is known, may rise at once.” 

“That is quite true. Yes, we must do nothing to 
arouse suspicion. What do you propose, Mr. Bathurst?” 

“ I will go and have a talk with the Doctor, he can 
go round to the other officers one by one. I will tell 
Mr. Hunter and he will tell the other residents, so that 
when they meet here in the evening no explanations 
will be needed, and a very few words as we sit out on 
the veranda will be sufficient.” 

“ That will be a very good plan. We will sit down 
to dinner as if nothing had happened; if they are watch- 
ing et all they will be keeping their eyes on us then.” 

“Very well, I will be in by nine o’clock. Major,” and 
with a slight bow to Isobel Bathurst stepped out 
through the open window and made his way to the 
Doctor’s. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The Doctor had just sat down to dinner when Bath- 
urst came in; the two subalterns were dining with 
him. 

“That’s good, Bathurst,” the Doctor said as he en- 
tered. “ Boy, put a chair for Mr. Bathurst. I had be- 
gun to think that you had deserted me as well as every- 
body. else. ” 

“I was not thinking of dining,” Bathurst said as he 
sat down, “but I will do so with pleasure, though I told 
my man I should be back in half an hour,” and as the 
servant left the room he added, “ I have much to say. 
Doctor ; get through dinner as quick as you can and get 
the servants out of the tent.” 

The conversation was at once turned by the Doctor 
upon shooting and hunting, and no allusion was made 
to passing events until coffee was put on the table and 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


197 


the servant retired. The talk, which had been lively 
during dinner, then ceased. 

“Well, Bathurst,” the Doctor asked, “I suppose you 
have something serious to tell me. ” 

“ Very serious. Doctor,” and he repeated the news he 
had given the Major. 

“It could not be worse, Bathurst,^’ the Doctor said 
quietly, after the first shock of the news had passed. 
“ You know I never had any faith in the Sepoys since I 
saw how this madness was spreading from station to 
station. This sort of thing is contagious. It becomes 
a sort of epidemic, and in spite of the assurances of the 
men I felt sure they would go. But this scoundrel of 
Bithoor turning against us is more than I bargained 
for. There is no disguising the fact that it means a 
general rising through Oude, and in that case God help 
the women and children ! As for us, it all comes in the 
line of business. What does the Major say?” 

“ The only question that seemed to him to be open 
was whether the women and children could be got 
away.” 

“ But there does not seem any possible place for them 
to go to. One or two might travel down the country 
in disguise, but that is out of the question for a large 
party. There is no refuge nearer than Allahabad. 
With every man’s hand against them I see not the 
slightest chance of a party making their way down.” 

“ You or I might do it easily enough. Doctor, but for 
women it seems to me out of the question ; still, that is 
a matter for each married man to decide for himself. 
The prospect is dark enough anyway, but, as before, it 
seems to me that everything really depends upon the 
Zemindars. If we hold the court-house it is possible 
the Sepoys may be beaten off in their first attack, and, 
in their impatience to join the mutineers, who are all 
apparently marching for Delhi, they may go off with- 
out throwing away their lives by attacking us, for I 
don’t think they would be able to take the place with- 
out cannon. But if the Zemindars join them with can- 
non we may defend ourselves till the last, but there 
can be but one end to it. ” 


198 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

The Doctor nodded. “ That is the situation exactly, 
Bathurst. 

“I am glad we know the danger, and shall be able 
to face it openly,” Wilson said. “ For the last month 
Richards and I havD been keeping watch alternately, 
and it has been beastly funky work sitting there with 
one’s pistols on ' the table before one, listening, and 
knowing every moment there might be a yell and these 
brown devils come pouring in. Now, at least, we are 
likely to have a fight for it, and to know that some of 
them will go down before we do.” 

Richards cordially agreed with his companion. ^ 

“Well, now, what are the orders, Bathurst?” said the 
Doctor. 

“ There are no orders as yet, Doctor. The Major 
says will you go round to the others, Doolan, Rintoul, 
and Forster, and tell them? I am to go round to 
Hunter and the other civilians. Then this evening 
fve are to meet at nine o’clock, as usual, at the Major’s. 
If the others decide that the only plan is for all to stop 
here and fight it out, there will be no occasion for any- 
thing like a council ; it will only have to be arranged 
at what time we all move into the fort and tbe best 
means for keeping the news from spreading to the 
Sepoys. Not that it will make much difference after 
they have once fairly turned in. If there is one thing 
a Hindoo hates more than another it is getting from 
under his blankets when he has once got himself warm 
at night. Even if they heard at one or two o’clock in 
the morning that we were moving into the fort I don’t 
think they would turn out until morning.” 

“ No, I am sure they would not,” the Doctor agreed. 

“ If there were a few more of us,” Richards said, “ I 
should vote for our beginning it. If we were to fall 
suddenly upon them, we might kill a lot and scare the 
rest off. ” 

“We are too few for that,” the Doctor said. “Be- 
sides, although Bathurst answers for the good faith of 
the sender of the warning, there has as yet been no act 
of mutiny that would justify our taking such a step as 
that. It would come to th^ same thing. We might 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. I99 

kill a good many, but in the long r;in three hundred 
men would be more than a match for a dozen, and then 
the women would be at their mercy. Well, we had 
better be moving, or we shall not have time to go round 
to the bungalows before the people set out for the 
Major’s.” 

It was a painful mission that Bathurst had to perform, 
for he had to tell those he called upon that almost cer- 
tain death was at hand, but the news was everywhere 
received calmly. The strain had of late been so great 
that the news that the crisis was at hand was almost 
welcome. He did not stay long anywhere, but after 
setting an alternative before them le^ husband and 
wife to discuss whether to try to make aown to Allaha- 
bad, or to- take refuge in the fort. 

Soon after nine o’clock all were at Major Hannay’s. 
There were pale faces among them, but no stranger 
would have supposed that the whole party had just re- 
ceived news which was virtually a death-warrant. The 
ladies talked together as usual, while the men moved 
in and out of the room, sometimes talking with the 
Major, sometimes sitting down for a few minutes in 
the veranda outside, or talking there in low tones to- 
gether. 

The Major moved about among them, and soon 
learned that all had resolved to stay and meet what- 
ever came together, preferring that to the hardships 
and unknown dangers of flight. 

“ I am glad you have all decided so,” he said quietly. 
“ In the state the country is the chances of getting to 
Allahabad are next to nothing. Here we may hold 
out till Lawrence restores order at Lucknow, and then 
he may be able to send a party to bring us in. Or the 
mutineers may draw off and march to Delhi. I cer- 
tainly think the chances are best here ; besides, every 
rifle we have is of importance, and though if any of 
you had made up your minds to try and escape I should 
have made no objection, I am glad that we shall all 
stand together here.” 

The arrangements were then briefly made for the re- 
moval to the court-house. All were to go back and ap- 


200 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


parently to retire to bed as usual. At twelve o’clock 
the men, armed, were to call up their servants, load 
them up with such things as were most required, and 
proceed witlf them, the women and children, at once to 
the court-house. Half the men were to remain there 
on guard while the others would continue with the ser- 
vants to make journeys backward and forward to the 
bungalows, bringing in as much as could be carried, 
the guard to be changed every hour. In the morning, 
the servants were all to have the choice given them of 
remaining with their masters or leaving. 

Captain Forster was the only dissentient. He was in 
favor of the w’}iole party mounting, placing the women 
and children in carriages, and making their way in a 
body, fighting their way, if necessary, down to Allaha- 
bad. He admitted fhat, in addition to the hundred 
troopers of his own squadron, they might be cut off by 
the mutinous cavalry from Cawnpore, fall in with 
bodies of rebels or be attacked by villagers, but he 
maintained that there was at least some chance of cut- 
ting their way through, while once shut up in the 
court-house escape would be well-nigh impossible. 

“ But you all along agreed to our holding the court- 
house, Forster,” the Major said. 

“Yes, but then I reckoned upon Cawnpore holding 
out with the assistance of Nana Sahib, and upon the 
country remaining quiet. Now the whole thing is 
changed. I am quite ready to fight in the open, and to 
take my chance of being killed there, but I protest 
against being shut up like a rat in a hole. ” 

To the rest, however, the proposal appeared desper- 
ate. There would be no withstanding a single charge 
of the well-trained troopers, especially as it would be 
necessary to guard the vehicles. Had it not been for 
that, the small body of men might possibly have cut 
their way through the cavalry; but even then they 
would be so hotly pursued that the most of them would 
assuredly be hunted down. But encumbered by the 
women such an enterprise seemed utterly hopeless, and 
the whole of the others were unanimously against it. 

The party broke up very early. The strain of main- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


201 


taining their ordinary demeanor was too great to be 
long endured, and the ladies with children were anxious 
to return as soon as possible to them lest at the last 
moment the Sepoys should have made some change 
in their arrangements. By ten o’clock the whole party 
had left. 

The two subalterns had no preparations to make; 
they had already sent most of their things into the 
hospital, and lighting their pipes they sat down and 
talked quietly till midnight ; then placing their pistols 
in their belts and wrapping themselves in their cloaks 
they went into the Doctor’s tent, which was next to theirs. 

The Doctor at once roused his servant, who was sleep- 
ing in a shelter-tent pitched by the side of his. The 
man came in, looking surprised at being called. 
“Roshun,”the Doctor said, “you have been with me 
ten years and I believe you to be faithful. ’’ 

“I would lay down my life for the Sahib,’’ the man 
said quietly. 

“ You have heard nothing of any trouble with the 
Sepoys?’’ 

“ No, Sahib, they know that Roshun is faithful to his 
master.’’ 

“ We have news that they are going to rise in the 
morning and kill all Europeans, so we are going to 
move at once into the hospital. ’’ 

“Good, Sahib; what will you take with you?’’ 

“ My books and papers have all gone in,’’ the Doctor 
said, “ that portmanteau may as well go. I will carry 
these two rifles myself ; the ammunition is all there ex- 
cept that bag in the corner, which I will sling round 
my shoulder.” 

“ What are in those two cases, Doctor?” Wilson asked. 

“ Brandy, lad. ” 

“ We may as well carry one of those apiece. Doctor, 
if your boy takes the portmanteau. It would be a pity 
to leave good liquor to be wasted by those brutes.” 

“ I agree with you, Wilson ; besides, the less liquor 
they get hold of the better for us. Now, if you are all 
ready we will start, but we must move quietly or the 
sentry at the quarter guard may hear us.” 


202 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Ten minutes later they reached the hospital, being 
the last of the party to arrive there. 

“Now, Major,” the Doctor said cheerily, as soon as 
he entered, “ as this place is supposed to be under my 
special charge I will take command for the present. 
Wilson and Richards will act as my lieutenants. We 
have nothing to do outside, and can devote ourselves to 
getting things a little straight here. The first thing to 
do is to light lamps in all the lower rooms; then we can. 
see what we are doing, and the ladies will be able to 
give us their help, while the men go out with the ser- 
vants to bring things in, and remember the first thing 
to do is to bring in the horses. They may be useful to 
us. There is a good store of forage piled in the corner 
of the yard, but the syces had best bring in as much 
more as they can carry. Now, ladies, if you will all 
bring your bundles inside the house we will set about 
arranging things, and at any rate get the children into 
bed as quickly as possible.” 

As it had been already settled as to the rooms to be 
occupied, the ladies and their ayahs set to work at once, 
glad to have something to employ them. One of the 
rooms which had been fitted up with beds had been de- 
voted to the purposes of a nursery, and the children, 
most of whom were still asleep, were soon settled there. 
Two other rooms had been fitted up for the use of the 
ladies, while the men were to occupy two others, the 
court-room being turned into a general meeting and 
dining-room. 

At first there was not much to do, but as the servants, 
closely watched by their masters, went backward and 
forward bringing in goods of all kinds, there was 
plenty of employment in carrying them down to a 
large underground room, where they were left to be 
sorted later on. 

The Doctor had appointed Tsobel Hannay and the 
two Miss Hunters to the work of lighting a fire and 
getting boiling water ready, and a plentiful supply of 
coffee was presently made, Wilson and Richards draw- 
ing the water, carrying the heavier loads downstairs, 
and making themselves generally useful. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


20t 


Captain Forster had not come in. He had under- 
taken to remain in his tent in the lines, where he had 
quietly saddled and unpicketed his horse, tying it up 
to the tent ropes so that he could mount in an instant. 
He still believed that his own men would stand firm, 
and declared he would at their head charge the muti 
nous infantry, while if they joined the mutineers he 
would ride into the fort. It was also arranged that he 
should bring in word should the Sepoys obtain news of 
what was going on ^and rise before morning. 

All felt better and more cheerful after having taken 
some coffee. 

“It is difficult to believe. Miss Hannay,” Richards 
said, “ that this is all real and not a sort of pic-nic or 
an early start on a hunting expedition.” 

“ It is, indeed, Mr. Richards. I can hardly believe 
even now that it is all true, and have pinched myself 
two or three times to make sure that I am awake.” 

“If the villains venture to attack us,” Wilson said, 
“ I feel sure we shall beat them off handsomely. ” 

“ I have no doubt we shall, Mr. Wilson, especially as 
it will be in daylight. You know you and Mr. Richards 
are not famous for night shooting. ” 

The young men both laughed. 

“ We shall never hear the last of that tiger story. 
Miss Hannay. I can tell you it is no joke shooting 
when you have been sitting cramped up on a tree for 
about six hours. We are really both pretty good shots. 
Of course I don’t mean like the Doctor, but we always 
make good scores with the targets. Come, Richards, 
here is another lot of things; if they go on at this rate 
the Sepoys won’t find much to loot in the bungalows 
to-morrow. ” 

Just as daylight was breaking the servants were all 
called together and given the choice of staying or leav- 
ing. Only some eight or ten, all of whom belonged to 
the neighborhood, chose to go off to their villages. 
The rest declared they would stay with their masters. 

Two of the party by turns had been on watch all 
night on the terrace to listen for any sound of tumult 
in the lines, but all had gone on quietly. Bathurst 


204 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


had been working with the others all night, and after 
seeing that all his papers were carried to the court- 
house, he had troubled but little about his own belong- 
ings, but had assisted the others in bringing in their 
goods. 

At daylight the Major and his officers mounted and 
rode quietly down toward the parade ground. Bath- 
urst and Mr. Hunter, with several of the servants, 
took their places at the gates in readiness to open and 
close them quickly, while the Doctor and the other 
Europeans went up to the roof, where they loaded and 
placed in readiness six guns each, from the store in the 
court-house. Isobel Hannay and the wives of the two 
captains were too anxious to remain below, and went 
up to the roof also. The Doctor took his place by them, 
examining the lines with a field-glass. 

The officers halted when they reached the parade 
ground, and sat on their horses in a group, waiting for 
the men to turn out as usual. 

“There goes the assembly,” the Doctor said, as the 
notes of the bugle came to their ears. “ They even are 
turning out of their tents. There, I can make out 
Forster, he has just mounted; a plucky fellow that.” 

Instead of straggling out on to the parade ground as 
usual, the Sepoys seemed to hang about their tents. 
The cavalry mounted and formed up in their lines. 
Suddenly a gun was fired, and as if at the signal the 
whole of the infantry rushed forward toward the of- 
ficers, yelling and firing ; and the latter at once turned 
their horses and rode toward the court-house. 

“Don't be alarmed, my dear,” the Doctor said to 
Isobel. “ I don’t suppose any one is hit. The Sepoys 
are not shots at the best of times, and firing running 
they would not be able to hit a haystack at a hundred 
yards. The cavalry stand firm, you see,” he said, turn- 
ing his glass in that direction. “ Forster is haranguing 
them. There, three of the native officers are riding up 
to him. Ah! One has fired at him! Missed! Ah! 
That is a better shot,” as the man fell from his horse, 
from a shot from his captain’s pistol. 

The other two rushed at him. One he cut down, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


205 


and the other shot. Then he could be seen again, 
shouting and waving his sword to the men, but their 
yells could be heard as they rode forward at him. 

“Ride, man, ride,” the Doctor shouted, although his 
voice could not have been heard at a quarter of the 
distance. 

But instead of turning Forster rode right at them. 
There was a confused melee for a moment, and then his 
figure appeared beyond the line, through which he had 
broken. With yells of fury the troopers reined in their 
horses, and tried to turn them, but before they could 
do so the officer was upon them again. His revolver 
cracked in his left hand, and his sword flashed in his 
right. Two or three horses and men were seen to roll 
over, and in a moment he was through them again and 
riding at full speed for the court-house, under a scat- 
tered fire from the infantry, while the horsemen, now 
in a confused mass, galloped behind him. 

“ Now then,” the Doctor shouted, picking up his rifle; 
“let them know we are within range, but mind you 
don’t hit Forster. Fire two or three shots, and then 
run down to the gate. He is well mounted and has a 
good fifty yards’ start of them.” 

Then taking deliberate aim he fired. The others 
followed his example. Three of the troopers dropped 
from their horses. Three times those on the terrace 
fired, and then ran down, each, at the Doctor’s order, 
taking two guns with him. One of these was placed ir 
the hands of each of the officers who had just ridden in, 
and they then gathered round the gate. In two min- 
utes Forster rode in at full speed ; then fifteen muskets 
flashed out and several of the pursuers fell from their 
horses. A minute later the gate was closed an debarred, 
and the men all ran up to the roof, from which their 
muskets were fired simultaneously. 

“Well done,” the Doctor exclaimed. “That is a 
good beginning.” 

A minute later a brisk fire was opened from the ter- 
race upon the cavalry, who at once turned and rode 
rapidly back to their lines. 

Captain Forster had not come scathless through the 


2o6 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


fray; his cheek had been laid open by a sabre cut and 
a musket-ball had gone through the fleshy part of his 
arm as he rode back. 

“This comes of fighting when there is no occasion," 
the Doctor growled, when he dressed his wounds. 
“ Here you are charging a host like a paladin of old, 
forgetful that we want every man who can lift an arm 
in defence of this place." 

“ I think. Doctor, there is some one else wants your 
services more than I do." 

“ Yes? is any one else hit?" 

“ No, I don’t know that any one else is hit. Doctor, 
but as I turned to come into the house after the gates 
were shut, there was that fellow Bathurst leaning 
against the wall as white as a sheet and shaking all 
over like a leaf. I should say a strong dose of Dutch 
courage would be the best medicine there." 

“ You do not do justice to Bathurst, Captain Forster," 
the Doctor said gravely. “ He is a man I esteem mos^ 
highly. In some respects he is the bravest man I know, 
but he is constitutionally unable to stand noise, and the 
sound of a gun is torture to him. It is an unfortunate 
idiosyncrasy for which he is in no way accountable." 

“Exceedingly unfortunate, I should say," Forster 
said, with a dry laugh. “ Especially at times like this. 
It is rather unlucky for him that fighting is generally 
accompanied by noise. If I had such an idiosyncrasy, 
as you call it, I would blow out my brains." 

“Perhaps Bathurst would do so, too, Captain Forster, 
if he had not more brains to blow out than some people 
have." 

“That is sharp. Doctor," Forster laughed good-tem- 
peredly.* “ I don’t mind a fair hit." 

“Well, I must go," the Doctor said, somewhat mol- 
lified; “there is plenty to do, and I expect, after these 
fellows have held a council of war, they will be trying 
an attack." 

When the Doctor went out he found the whole of the 
garrison busy. The Major had placed four men on the 
roof and had ordered every one else to fill the bags that 
had been prepared for the purpose with earth from the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 207 

garden. It was only an order to the men and male 
servants, but the ladies had all gone out to render their 
assistance. As fast as the natives filled the bags with 
earth the ladies sewed up the months of thb bags and 
the men carried them away and piled them against the 
gate. 

The garrison consisted of the six military officers, 
the Doctor, seven civilians, ten ladies, eight children, 
thirty-eight male servants, and six females. The work, 
therefore, went on rapidly, and in the course of two 
hours so large a pile of bags was built up against the* 
gate that there was no probability whatever of its be- 
ing forced. 

“Now,” the Major said, “we want four dozen bags 
at least for the parapet of the terrace. We need not 
raise it all, but we must build up a breastwork two 
bags high at each of the angles. ” 

There was only just time to accomplish this when 
one of the watch on the roof* reported that the Sepoys 
were firing the bungalows. As soon hs they saw that 
the Europeans had gained the shelter of the court-house 
the Sepoys, with yells of triumph, had made for the 
houses of the Europeans, and their disappointment at 
finding that not only had all the whites taken refuge in 
the court-house, but that they had removed most of 
their property, vented itself in setting fire to the build- 
ings, after stripping them *of everything, and then 
amused themselves by keeping up a straggling fire 
against the court-house. 

As soon as the bags were taken on to the roof, the 
defenders, keeping under the shelter of the two para- 
pets, carried them to the corners of the terrace, and 
piled them two deep on the parapet, these forming a 
breastwork four feet high. Eight of the best shots 
were then chosen, and two of them took post at each 
corner. 

“Now,” the Doctor said cheerfully, as he sat behind 
a small loop-hole that had been left between the bags, 
“it is our turn, and I don’t fancy we shall waste as 
much lead as you have been doing.” 

The fire from the defenders was slow, but it was 


208 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


deadly, and in a very short time the Sepoys no longer 
dared to show themselves in the open, but took refuge 
behind trees, whence they endeavored to reply to the 
fire on the rbof, but even this proved so dangerous that 
it was not long before the fire ceased altogether, and 
they drew off under cover of the smoke from the burn- 
ing bungalows. 

Isobel Hannay had met Bathurst as he was carrying, 
a sack of earth to the roof. 

“ I have been wanting to speak to you, Mr. Bathurst, 
eVer since yesterday evening, but you have never given 
me an opportunity. Will you step into the store-room 
for a few minutes as you come down?” 

As he came down he went to the door of the room in 
which Isobel was standing awaiting him. 

“ I am not coming in. Miss Hannay. I believe I 
know what you are going to say. I saw it in your face 
last night when I had to tell that tiger story. You 
want to say that you are sorry you said that you despised 
cowards. Do not say it; you were perfectly right ; you 
cannot despise me one-tenth as much as I despise my- 
self. While you were looking at the mutineers from 
the roof I was leaning against the wall below well-nigh 
fainting. What do you think my feelings must be that 
here, where every man is brave, where there are wo- 
men and children to be defended, I alone cannot bear 
my part? Look at my face, 1 know there is not a vestige 
of color in it; look at my hands, they are not steady 
yet. It is useless for you to speak; you may pity me, 
but you cannot but despise me. Believe me, that 
death when it comes will be to me a happy release in- 
deed from the shame and misery I feel.” 

Then, turning, he left the girl without another word, 
and went about his work. The Doctor had, just before 
going up to take his place on the roof, come across him. 

“Come in here, my dear Bathurst,” he said, seizing 
his arm and dragging him into the room which had 
been given up to him for his drugs and surgical appli- 
ances, “let me give you a strong dose of ammonia and 
ginger; you want a pick-up, I can see by your face.” 

“I want it. Doctor, but I will not take it,” Bathurst 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 20g 

said. “ That is one thing I have made up my mind to. 
I will take no spirits to create a courage that I do not 
possess.” 

“ It is not courage ; it has nothing to do with cour- 
age, ” the Doctor said angrily. “ It is a simple ques- 
tion of nerves, as I have told you over and over again.” 

“ Call it what you like, Doctor, the result is precisely 
the same. I do not mind taking a strong dose of qui- 
nine if you will give it me, for I feel as weak as a 
child, but no spirits. ” 

With an impatient shrug of the shoulders the Doctor 
mixed a strong dose of quinine and gave it to him. 

An hour later a sudden outburst of musketry took 
place. Not a native showed himself on the side of the 
house facing the maidan, but from the gardens on the 
other three sides a heavy fire was opened. 

“ Every man to the roof,” the Major said, “four men 
to each of the rear corners, three to the others. Do you 
think you are fit to fire, Forster? Had you not better 
keep quiet for to-day? You will have opportunities 
enough.” 

“I am all right. Major,” he said carelessly. “I 
can put my rifle through a loop-hole and fire, though I 
have one- arm in a sling. By Jove!” he broke off sud- 
denly, “look at that fellow Bathurst, he looks like a 
ghost.” 

The roll of musketry was unabated, and the defenders 
were already beginning to answer it, the bullets sang 
thickly overhead, and above the din could be heard the 
shouts of the natives. Bathurst’s face was rigid and 
ghastly pale. The Major hurried to him. 

“ My dear Bathurst,” he said, “ I think you had better 
go below. You will find plenty of work to do there.” 

“My work is here,” Bathurst said, as if speaking to 
himself, “it must be done.” 

The Major could not at the moment pay further at- 
tention to him, for a roar of fire broke out round the 
enclosure from the ruined bungalows and every bush 
as the Sepoys, who had crept up, now commenced the 
attack in earnest, while the defenders, lying behind the 
parapet, replied slowly and steadily, aiming at the puffs 

14 


210 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


of smoke as they darted out. His attention was sud- 
denly called by a shout from the Doctor : 

“ Are you mad, Bathurst? Lie down, man, you are 
throwing away your life.” 

Turning round the Major saw Bathurst standing 
upright by the parapet, facing the point where the 
enemy’s fire was hottest. He held a rifle in his hand, 
but did not attempt to fire; his figure swayed slightly 
to and fro. 

“Lie down,” the Major shouted. “Lie down, sir,” 
and then as Bathurst still stood unmoved he was about 
to rush forward, when the Doctor from one side and 
Captain Forster from the other rushed toward Bathurst 
through a storm of bullets, seized him in their arms, 
and dragged him back to the centre of the terrace. 

“Nobly done, gentlemen,” the Major said as they 
laid Bathurst down ; “ it was almost miraculous your not 
being hit. ” 

Bathurst had struggled fiercely for a moment, and 
then his resistance had suddenly ceased and he had 
been dragged back like a wooden figure. His eyes 
were closed now. 

“ Has he been hit. Doctor?” the Major asked. “ It 
seems impossible he can have escaped. What madness 
possessed him to put himself there as a target?” 

“No, I don’t think he is hit,” the Doctor said, as he 
examined him. “ I think he has fainted. We had bet- 
ter carry him down to my room. Shake hands, Forster ; 
I know you and Bathurst were not good friends, and 
you risked your life to save him.” 

“I did not think who it was,” Forster said with a 
careless laugh. “ I saw a man behaving like a madman 
and naturally went to pull him down. However, I shall 
think better of him in future, though I doubt whether 
he was in his right senses.” 

“ He wanted to be killed,” the Doctor said quietly, 
“ and the effort that he made to place himself in the 
way of death must have been greater than either you or 
I can well understand, Forster. I know the circum- 
stances of his case. Morally I believe there is no 
braver man living than he is; physically he has the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 211 

constitution of a timid woman : it is mind aofainst 
body.” 

“The distinction is too fine for me, Doctor,” Forster 
said, as he turned to go off to his post by the parapet. 
“ I understand pluck and I understand cowardice, but 
this mysterious mixture you speak of is beyond me 
altogether.” 

^ The Major and Doctor Wade lifted Bathurst and car- 
ried him below. Mrs. Hunter, who had been appointed 
chief nurse, met them. 

“ Is he badly wounded. Doctor?” 

“No; he is not wounded at all, Mrs. Hunter. He 
stood up at the edge of the parapet and exposed him- 
self so rashly to the Sepoys’ fire that we had to drag 
him away, and then the reaction, acting on a nervous 
temperament, was too much for him, and he fainted. 
We shall soon bring him round. You can come in with 
me, but keep the others away. ” 

The Major at once returned to the terrace. 

In spite of the restoratives the Doctor poured through 
his lips and cold water dashed in his face, Bathurst 
was some time before he opened his eyes. Seeing Mrs. 
Hunter and the Doctor beside him, he made an effort 
to rise. 

“ You must be still, Bathurst,” the Doctor said, press- 
ing his hand on his shoulder. “ You have done a very 
foolish thing, a very wrong thing. You have tried to 
throw away your life. ” 

“No, I did not. I had no thought of throwing away 
my life,” Bathurst said, after a pause. “I was trying 
to make myself stand fire. I did not think whether I 
should be hit or not. I am not afraid of bullets. Doctor ; 
it’s the horrible, fiendish noise that I cannot stand.” 

“ I know, my boy, ” the Doctor said kindly, “ but it 
comes to the same thing. You did put yourself in the 
way of bullets when your doing so was of no possible 
advantage, and it is almost a miracle that you escaped 
unhurt. You must remain here quiet for the present. 
I shall leave you in charge of Mrs. Hunter. There is 
nothing for you to do on the roof at present. This 
attack is a mere outbreak of rage on the part of the 


212 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Sepoys that we have all escaped them. They know 
well enough they can’t take this house by merely firing 
away at the roof. When they attack in earnest it will 
be quite time for you to take part in the affair again. 
Now, Mrs. Hunter, my orders are absolute that he is 
not to be allowed to get up. ” 

On the Doctor leaving the room he found several of 
the ladies outside ; the news that Mr. Bathurst had been 
carried down had spread among them. 

“ Is he badly hurt. Doctor?” 

“ No, ladies. Mr. Bathurst is, unfortunately for 
himself, an extremely nervous man, and the noise of 
fire-arms has an effect upon him that he cannot by 
any effort of his own overcome. In order, as he says, 
to try and accustom himself to it he went and stood at 
the edge of the parapet in full sight of the Sepo5^s and 
let them blaze away at him. He must have been killed 
if Forster and I had not dragged him away by main 
force. Then came the natural reaction and he fainted. 
That is all there is about it. Poor fellow, he is ex- 
tremely sensitive on the ground of personal courage. 
In other respects I have known him do things requiring 
an amount of pluck that not one man in a hundred 
possesses, and I wish you all to remember that his 
nervousness at the effect of the noise of fire-arms is a 
purely constitutional weakness, for which he is in no 
way to be blamed. He has just risked his life in the 
most reckless manner, in order to overcome what he 
considers, and what he knows that some persons con- 
sider, is cowardice, and it would be as cruel and, I may 
say, as contemptible to despise him for a constitutional 
fifiling as it would be to despise a person for being born 
a humpback or a cripple. But I cannot stand talking 
any longer. I shall be more useful on the roof than I 
am here.” 

Isobel Hannay was not among those who had gath- 
ered near the door of the room in which Bathurst was 
lying, but the Doctor had raised his voice and she heard 
what he said, and bent over her work of sewing strips 
of linen together for bandages with a paler face than 
had been caused by the outbreak of musketry. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


213 


Gradually the firing ceased; the Sepoys had suffered 
heavily from the steady fire of the invisible defenders, 
and gradually drew off, and in an hour from the com- 
mencement of the attack all was silent round the build- 
ing. 

So far so good, ladies,” the Major said cheerily, as 
the garrison, leaving one man on watch, descended 
from the roof. “We have had no casualties, and I think 
we must have inflicted a good many, and the mutineers 
are not likely to try that game on again, for they must 
see that they are wasting ammunition, and are not 
likely to frighten us. Now I hope the servants have 
got tiffin ready for us, for I am sure we have all excel- 
lent appetites. ” 

“Tiffin is quite ready. Major,” Mrs. Doolan, who 
had been appointed chief of the commissariat depart- 
ment, said cheerfully. “ The servants were a little 
disorganized when the firing began, but they soon 
became accustomed to it, and I think you will find 
everything in order in the hall.” 

The meal was really a cheerful one ; the fact that the 
first attack had passed over without any one being hit 
raised the spirits of the women, and all were disposed 
to look at matters in a cheerful light. The two young 
subalterns were in high spirits, and the party were 
more lively than they had been since the first outbreak 
of the mutiny. All had felt severely the strain of wait- 
ing, and the reality of danger was a positive relief after 
the continuous suspense. It was much to them to know 
that the crisis had come at last, that they were still all 
together and the foe were without. 

“ It is difficult to believe, ” Mrs. Doolan said, “ that 
it was only yesterday evening we were all gathered at 
the Major’s. It seems an age since then.” 

“Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Rintoul agreed; “the night 
seemed endless. The worst time was the waiting till 
we were to begin to move over. After that I did not 
so much mind, though it seemed more like a week than 
a night while the things were being brought in here.” 

“ I think the worst time was while we were waiting 
watching from the roof to see whether the troops would 


214 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

come out on parade as usual,” Isobel said. “When 
once uncle and the others were all in, and Captain 
Forster, and the gates were shut, it seemed that our 
anxieties were over.” 

“That was a mad charge of yours, Forster,” the 
Major said. “ It was like the Balaclava business, mag- 
nificent, but it wasn’t war.” 

“ I did not think of it one way or the other,” Captain 
Forster laughed. “ I was so furious at the insolence 
of those dogs attacking me that I thought of nothing 
else, and just went at them; but, of course, it was 
foolish.” 

“It did good,” the Doctor said. “ It showed the 
Sepoys how little we thought of them, and how a single 
white officer was ready to match himself against a 
squadron. It will render them a good deal more care- 
ful in their attack than they otherwise would have been. 
It brought them under our fire, too, and they suffered 
pretty heavily, and I am sure the infantry must have 
lost a good many men from our fire just now. I hope 
they will come to the conclusion that the best thing 
they can do is to march away to Delhi and leave us 
severely alone. Now what are )^our orders, Major, for 
after breakfast?” 

“ I think the best thing is for every one to lie down 
for a few hours,” the Major said. “ No one had a wink 
of sleep last night, and most of us have not slept much 
for some nights past. We must always keep two men 
on the roof to be relieved every two hours. I will 
draw up a regular rota for duty, but except those two 
the rest had better take good sleep. We may be all 
called upon to be under arms at night.” 

“ I will go on the first relief, Major,” the Doctor said. 
“ I feel particularly wide-awake. It is nothing new to 
me to be up all night. Put Bathurst down with me,” 
he said, in a low tone, as the Major rose from the table. 
“ He knows that I understand him, and it will be less 
painful for him to be with me than with any one else. 
I will go up at once, and send young Harpur down to 
his breakfast. There will be no occasion to have Bath- 
urst Up this tim^, The Sepoy§ are not likely to be 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 215 

trying any pranks at present. No doubt they have 
gone back to their lines to get a meal. ” 

The Doctor had not been long at his post when Isobel 
Hannay came up on to the terrace. They had seen 
each other alone comparatively little of late, as the 
Doctor had given up his habit of dropping in for a chat 
in the morning since their conversation about Bathurst. 

“ Well, rdy dear, what is it?” he asked. “ This is no 
place for you, for there are a few fellows still lurking 
among the trees, and they send a shot over the house 
occasionally.” 

“ I came up to say that I am sorry. Doctor.” 

“That is right, Isobel. Always say you are sorry 
when' you are so, although in nine cases out of ten, and 
this is one of them, the saying so is too late to do much 
good. ” 

“ I think you are rather hard upon me. Doctor. I 
know you were speaking at me to-day when you were 
talking to the others, especially in what you said at the 
end.” 

“ Perhaps I was, but I think you quite deserved it. ” 

“ Yes, I know I did, but it was hard to tell me it was 
as contemptible to despise a man for a physical weak- 
ness he could not help as to despise one for being born 
humpbacked or a cripple, when you know that my 
brother was so. ” 

“ I wanted you to feel that your conduct had been 
contemptible, Isobel, and I put it in the way that was 
most likely to come home to you. I have been disap- 
pointed in you. I thought you were more sensible 
than the run of young women, and I found out that you 
were not. I thought you had some confidence in my 
judgment, but it turned out that you had not. If Bath- 
urst had been killed when he was standing up a target 
for the Sepoys, I should have held you morally responsi- 
ble for his death.” 

“ You would have shared the responsibility, anyhow. 
Doctor, for it was you who repeated my words to him. ” 

“We will not go over that ground again,” said the 
Doctor quietly. “ I gave you my reasons for doing so, 
and those reasons are to my mind convincing. Now I 


2i6 in the days of the mutiny. 

will tell you how this constitutional nervousness on his 
part arose. He told me the story, but as at that time 
there had been no occasion for him to show whether he 
was brave or otherwise, I considered my lips sealed. 
Now that this weakness has been exhibited, 1 consider 
myself more than justified in explaining its origin.” 
And he then repeated the story Bathurst had told him. 

“Yor^see,”he said, when he had finished, “it is a 
constitutional matter beyond his control ; it is a sort of 
antipathy. I have known a case of a woman courage- 
ous in all other respects, who at the sight of even a 
dead cockroach would faint dead away; one of the most 
gallant officers of my acquaintance would turn pale at 
the sight of a spider. Certainly no one would have 
thought of calling either one or the other cowards, and 
certainly such a name should not be applied to a man 
who would face a tiger armed only with a whip in de- 
fence of a native woman, because his nerves go all to 
pieces at the sound of fire-arms. ” 

“ If you had told me all this before I should never 
have spoken as I did,” Isobel pleaded. 

“ I did not go into the full details, but I told you that 
he was not responsible for his want of firmness under 
fire, and that I know him in other respects to be a brave 
man, ” the Doctor said uncompromisingly. “ Since then 
you have by your manner driven him away from you. 
You have flirted — well, you may not call it flirting,” he 
broke off in answer to a gesture of denial, “ but it was 
the same thing, with a man who is undoubtedly a gal- 
lant soldier — a very paladin if you like — but who in 
spite of his handsome face and pleasant manner is no 
more to be compared with Bathurst in point of moral 
qualities or mental ability than light to dark, and this 
after I had like an old fool gone out of my way to warn 
you. You have disappointed me altogether, Isobel 
Hannay.” 

Isobel stood motionless before him, with downcast 
eyes. 

“Well, there, my dear,” the Doctor went on hur- 
riedly, as he saw a tear glisten in her eyelashes, “ don’t 
let us say anything more about it. In the first place it 


IN THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. 




is no affair of mine, and in the second place, your point 
of view was that most women would take at a time like 
this, only, you know, I expected you would not have 
done just as other women would. We cannot afford to 
quarrel now, for there is no doubt that although we may 
put a good face on the matter, our position is one of 
grave peril, and it is of no use troubling over trifles. 
Now run away, and get a few hours’ sleep if you can. 
You will want all your strength before we are through 
with this business.” 

While the Doctor had been talking to Isobel the men 
had gathered below in a sort of informal council, the 
subject being Bathurst’s conduct on the roof. 

“I would not have believed it if I had not seen it,” 
Captain Rintoul said. “ The man was absolutely help- 
less with fright. I never saw such an exhibition ; and 
then his fainting afterward and having to be carried 
away was disgusting ; in fact, it is worse than that. ” 
There was a general murmur of assent. 

“ It is disgraceful,” one of the civilians said. “ I am 
ashamed that the man should belong to our service ; the 
idea of a fellow being helpless by fright when there 
are women and children to be defended, it is down- 
right revolting. ” 

“Well, he did go and stick himself up in front,” 
Wilson said; “you should remember that. He may 
have been in a blue funk, I don’t say he wasn’t; still, 
you know, he didn’t go away and try to hide himself, 
but he stuck himself up in front for them to fire at. I 
think we ought to take that into consideration.” 

’ “ Doctor Wade says Bathurst put himself there to try 
and accustom himself to fire,” Captain Forster said. 
“Mind, I don’t pretend to like the man; we were at 
school together, and he was a coward then and a sneak, 
but for all that one should look at it fairly. The Doc- 
tor asserts that Bathurst is morally brave, but that 
somehow or other his nerves are too much for him. I 
don’t pretend to understand it myself, but there is no 
doubt about the Doctor’s pluck, and I don’t think he 
would stand up for Bathurst as he does unless he really 


2I8 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


thought he was not altogether accountable for showing 
the white feather. I think, too, from what he let drop, 
that the Major is to some extent of the same opinion. 
What do you think, Doolan?” 

“I like Bathurst,” Captain Doolan said. “I have 
always thought him a first-rate fellow, but one can’t 
stick up, you know, for a fellow who can’t behave as a 
gentleman ought to, especially when there are women 
and children in danger. ” 

“ It is quite impossible that we should associate with 
him,” Captain Rintoul said. “ I don’t propose that we 
should tell him what we think of him, but I think we 
ought to leave him severely alone.” 

“ I should say that he ought to be sent to Coventry,” 
Richards said. 

“I should not put it in that way,” Mr. Hunter said 
gravely. “ I have always esteemed Bathurst. I look 
upon it as a terribly sad case, but I agree with Captain 
Rintoul that in the position in which we are now placed 
a man who proves himself to be a coward must be made 
to feel that he stands apart from us. I should not call 
it sending him to Coventry, or anything of that sort, but 
I do think that we should express by our manner that 
we don’t wish to have any communication with him.” 

There was a general expression of assent to this 
opinion, Wilson alone protesting against it. 

*‘You can do as you like,” he said, “but certainly 
I shall speak to Bathurst, and I am sure the Doctor and 
Major Hannay will do so. I don’t want to stand up 
for a coward, but I believe what the Doctor says. I 
have seen a good deal of Bathurst, and I like him ; be- 
sides, haven’t you heard the story the Doctor has been 
telling about his attacking a tiger with a stick to save 
a native woman? I don’t care what any one says, a 
fellow who is a downright coward couldn’t do a thing 
like that.” 

“ Who told the Doctor about it?” Farquharson asked. 
“If he got it from Bathurst I don’t think it goes for 
much after what we have seen.” 

Wilson would have replied angrily, but Captain 
Doolan put his hand on his shoulder. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 219 

“ Shut up, Wilson,” he said, “this is no time for dis- 
putes; we are all in one boat here and must row to- 
gether like brothers. You go your own way about 
Bathurst, I don’t blame you for it; he is a man every 
one has liked, a first-rate official, and a good fellow all 
round, except he is not one of the sociable kind. At 
any other time one would not think so much of this, 
but at present for a man to lack courage is for him to 
lack everything. I hope he will come better out of it 
than it looks at present. He will have plenty of 
chances here, and no one will be more glad than I shall 
to see him pull himself together.” 

The Doctor, however, would have quarrelled with 
every one all round when he heard what had been de- 
cided upon, had not Major Hannay taken him aside and 
talked to him strongly. 

“ It will never do. Doctor, to have quarrels here, and 
as commandant I must beg of you not to make this a 
personal matter. I am very sorry for this poor fellow. 
I accept entirely your view of the matter, but at the 
same time I really can’t blame the others for looking 
at it from a matter of fact point of view. Want of cour- 
age is at all times regarded by men as the most unpar- 
donable of failings, and at a time like the present this 
feeling is naturally far stronger even than usual. I 
hope, with you, that Bathurst will retrieve himself yet, 
but we shall certainly do him no good by trying to fight 
his battle until he does. You and I, thinking as we 
do, will of course make no alteration in our manner 
toward him. I am glad to hear that young Wilson 
also stands as his friend. Let matters go on quietly. 
I believe they will come right in the end.” 

But among the ladies the resolution to cut Bathurst 
was not so quietly acquiesced in. Bathurst’s kindness 
to the children had always predisposed the mothers in 
his favor, and during the last month of anxiety they had 
come more than before to look upon him as a friend. 
They were perfectly ready to accept the Doctor’s theory, 
and the manner in which Bathurst had exposed himself 
to fire in their eyes greatly condoned his want of nerve. 
Mrs. Doolan and Mrs. Rintoul were his chief cham- 


220 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


pions, and the husbands of those ladies had an unpleas- 
ant time of it when they told them what had been, de- 
cided on. 

“ I gave you credit for more sense, Jem,” Mrs. Doolan 
said indignantly, “ and if you think that I am going to 
agree with you men you are very much mistaken. You 
are ready to avssociate with a man like Forster, who is a 
notorious scamp, and you set yourself up against Bath- 
urst, who is worth a thousand of him. I am ashamed 
of you.” 

Isobel Hannay had turned pale when she heard the 
news, but had said nothing. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

But though obliged to defer to Major Hannay’s 
wishes, and to abstain from arguing the question of 
Bathurst being given the cold shoulder, with the men. 
Doctor Wade had already organized the ladies in his 
favor. During the afternoon he had told them the tiger 
story, and had confidentially informed them how it was 
that Bathurst from his birth had been the victim of 
something like nervous paralysis at all loud sounds, 
especially those of the discharge of fire-arms. 

“ His conduct to-day,” he said, “and his courage in 
rescuing that native girl from the tiger, illustrate his 
character. He is cool, brave, and determined, as might 
be expected from a man of so well-balanced a mind as 
his, and even when his nerves utterly broke down un- 
der the din of musketry, his will was so far dominant 
that he forced himself to go forward and stand there 
under fire, an act which was, under the circumstances, 
simply heroic.” 

There is littfe difficulty in persuading women as to 
the merits of a man they like, and Bathurst had, dur- 
ing the last month, been much more appreciated than 
before by the ladies of Deennugghur. They had felt 
that there was something strange and charming in his 
presence, for while not attempting to minimize the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


221 


danger, there was a calm confidence in his manner that 
comforted and reassured those he talked to. 

In the last twenty-four hours, too, he had unob- 
trusively performed many little kindnesses ; had aided 
in the removals, carried the children, looked after the 
servants, and had been foremost in the arrangement of 
everything that could add to the comfort of the ladies. 

“I am glad you have told us all about it. Doctor,” 
Mrs. Doolan said ; “ and, of course, no one would dream 
of blaming him. I had heard that story about his leav- 
ing the army years ago; but although I had only seen 
him once or twice I did not believe it for a minute. 
What you tell us now. Doctor, explains the whole mat- 
ter. I pity him sincerely. It must be something awful 
for a man at a time like this not to be able to take his 
part in the defence, especially when there are us women 
here. Why, it would pain me less to see Jem brought 
in dead, than for him to show the white feather. What 
can we do for the poor fellow?” 

“ Treat him just as usual. There is nothing else you 
can do, Mrs. Doolan. Any tone of sympathy, still less 
of pity, would be the worst thing possible. He is in 
the lowest depths at present ; but if he finds by your 
tone and manner that you regard him on the same foot- 
ing as before, he will gradually come round, and I hope 
that before the end of the siege he will have opportuni- 
ties of retrieving himself. Not under fire, that is hope- 
less, but in other ways.” 

“You may be sure we will do all we can. Doctor,” 
Mrs. Doolan said warmly; “and there are plenty of 
ways he will be able to make himself most useful. 
There is somebody wanted to look after all those syces 
and servants, and it would be a comfort to us to have 
some one to talk to occasionally; besides all the chil- 
dren are fond of him.” 

This sentiment was warmly echoed, and so it was 
that when the determination of the men to cut Bathurst 
became known, there was something like a feminine 
revolution. 

“You may do a^ you like,” Mrs. Doolan said indig- 
nantly ; “ but if you think that we are going to do any- 


222 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


thing SO cruel and unjust you are entirely mistaken, I 
can tell you.” 

Mrs. Rintoul was equally emphatic, and Mrs. Hunter 
quietly, but with equal decision, protested. 

“ I have always regarded Mr. Bathurst as a friend, ” 
she said, “ and I shall continue to do so. It is very sad 
for him that he cannot take part in the defence, but it 
is no more fair to blame him than it would be to blame 
us, because we, too, are non-combatants.” 

Isobel Hannay had taken no part in the first discus- 
sion arrrong the ladies, nor did she say anything now. 

“It is cruel and unjust,” she said to herself; “but 
they only think as I did. I was more cruel and unjust 
than they, for there was no talk of danger then. I ex- 
pressed my contempt of him because there was a sus- 
picion that he had showed cowardice ten years ago, 
while they have seen it shown now when there is fear- 
ful peril. If they are cruel and unjust, what was I?” 

Later on the men gathered together at one end of the 
room and talked over the situation. 

“Doctor Wade,” the Major said quietly, “I shall be 
obliged if you will go and ask Mr. Bathurst to join us. 
He knows the people round here better than any of us, 
and his opinion will be valuable.” 

The Doctor, who had several times been in to see 
Bathurst, went to his room. 

“The Major wants you to join us, Bathurst; we are 
having a talk over things, and he wishes to have your 
opinion. I had better tell you that the camp is divided 
into two parties. On one side are the Major, Wilson, 
and myself and all the ladies, who take, I need not say, 
a common-sense view of the matter, and recognize that 
you have done all a man could do to overcome your 
constitutional nervousness, and that there is no dis- 
credit whatever attached to you personally. The rest 
of the men, I am sorry to say at present, take another 
view of the case, and are disposed tp show you the cold 
shoulder. ” 

“That, of course,” Bathurst said quietly; “as to the 
ladies’ view of it, I know that it is only the result of 
your good offices. Doctor.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


223 


“Then you will come,” the Doctor said, pleased that 
Bathurst seemed less depressed than he had expected. 

“ Certainly I will come, Doctor,” Bathurst said, rising, 
“ the worst is over now — every one knows that I am a 
coward, that is what I have dreaded. There is nothing 
else for me to be afraid of, and it is of no use hiding 
myself,” 

“We look quite at home here, Mr. Bathurst, don’t 
we?” Mrs. Doolan said cheerfully as he passed her, 
“ and I think we all feel a great deal more comfortable 
than we did when you gave us your warning last night ; 
the anticipation is always worse than the reality,” 

“Not always, I think, Mrs. Doolan,” he said quietly; 
“ but you have certainly made yourselves wonderfully 
at home, though your sewing is of a more practical kind 
than that upon which you are ordinarily engaged.” 

Then he passed on with the Doctor to the other end 
of the room. The Major nodded as he came up. 

“All right again now, Bathurst, I hope? We want 
your opinion, for you know, I think, more of the Zem- 
indars in this part of the country than any of us. Of 
course, the question is, will they take part against us?” 

“ I am afraid they will. Major. I had hoped other- 
wise, but if it be true that the Nana has gone — and as 
the other part of the message was correct, I have no 
doubt this is so also — I am afraid they will be carried 
away with the stream.” 

“ And you think they have guns?” 

“ I have not the least doubt of it; the number given 
up was a mere fraction of those they were said to have 
possessed.” 

“ I had hoped the troops would have marched away 
after the lesson we gave them this morning, but, so far 
as we can make out, there is no sign of movement in 
their lines; however, they may start at daybreak to- 
morrow.” 

“I will go out to see if you like. Major,” Bathurst 
said quietly. “ I can get native clothes from the ser- 
vants, and I speak the language well enough to pass as 
a native ; so if you give me permission I will go out to 
the lines and learn what their intentions are.” 


224 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“It would be a very dangerous undertaking,” the 
Major said gravely. 

“ I have no fear whatever of danger of that kind, 
Major; my nerves are steady enough, except when 
there is a noise of fire-arms, and then, as you all saw 
this morning, I cannot control them do what I will. 
Risks of any other kind I am quite prepared to under- 
take, but in this matter I think the risk is very slight, 
the only difficulty being to get through the line of 
sentries they have no doubt posted round the house ; once 
past them I think there is practically no risk whatever 
of their recognizing me ’^en made up as a native. 
The Doctor has, no doubt, got some iodine in his sur- 
gery, and a coat of that will bring me to the right color. ” 

“ Wellj if you are ready to undertake it I will not re- 
fuse,” the Major said. “How would you propose to 
get out?” 

“ I noticed yesterday that the branches of onS of the 
trees in the garden entered beyond the top of the wall. 
I will climb up that and lower myself on the other side 
by a rope, that is a very simple matter. The spot is 
close to the edge of Mr. Hunter’s compound, and I shall 
work my way through the shrubs there till I feel sure 
I am beyond any sentries that may be posted there; 
the chances are that they will not be thick anywhere ex- 
cept opposite the gate. By the way. Captain Forster, 
before I go I must thank you for having risked your 
life to save mine this morning. I heard from Mr. 
Hunter that it was you and the Doctor who rushed for- 
ward and drew me back. ” 

“ It is not worth talking about,” Captain Forster said 
carelessly. “You seemed bent on making a target of 
5"ourself, and as the Major’s orders were that every one 
was to lie down there was nothing for it but to remove 
you.” 

Bathurst turned to Doctor Wade. “ Will you super- 
intend my get-up. Doctor?” 

“Certainly,” the Doctor said with alacrity. “I will 
guarantee that, with the aid of my boy, I wrll turn you 
out so that no one would know you even in broad day- 
light, saying nothing of the dark.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY* 


225 


A quarter of an hour sufficed to metamorphose Bath- 
urst into an Oude peasant. He did not return to the 
room but, accompanied by the Doctor, made his way 
to the tree he had spoken of. 

“ By the way, you have taken no arms,” the Doctor 
said suddenly. 

“They would be useless, Doctor; if I am discovered 
I shall be killed ; if I am not discovered — and the chances 
are very slight of my being so — I shall get back safely. 
By the way, we will tie some knots on that rope before 
I let myself down. I used to be able to climb a rope 
without them, but I doubt whether I could do so now.” 

“Well, God bless you, lad, and bring you back safely^ 
You may make as light of it as you will, but it is a 
dangerous expedition. However, I am glad you have 
undertaken it, come what will, for it has given you the 
opportunity of showing you are not .afraid of danger 
when it takes any other form than that of fire-arms. 
There are plenty of men who would stand up bravely 
enough in a fight who would not like to undertake this 
task of going out alone in the dark into the middle of 
these blood-thirsty scoundrels. How long do you think 
you will be?” 

“ A couple of hours at the outside. ” 

“ Well, at the end of an hour I shall be back here 
again. Don’t be longer than you can help, lad for I 
shall be very anxious until you return.” 

When the Doctor returned to the house there was a 
chorus of questions : 

“Has Mr. Bathurst started?” “Why did you not 
bring him in here before you left? We should all have 
liked to have said good-by to him.” 

“ Yes, he has gone. I have seen him over the wall ; 
and it was much better that he should go without any 
fuss. He went gff just as quietly and unconcernedly 
as if he had been going out for an ordinary evening’s 
walk. Now I am going up on to the roof. I don’t say 
we should hear any hubbub down at the lines if he 
were discovered there, but we should certainly hear a 
shout if he came across any of the sentries round the 
house. ” 


5 


226 IN THE DAYS OE THE MUTINY. 

“ Has he taken any arms, Doctor?” the Major asked. 

“ None whatever, Major. I asked him if he would 
not take pistols, but he refused. ” 

“Well, I don’t understand that,” Captain Forster re- 
marked. “ If I had gone on such a business I would 
have taken a couple of revolvers. I am quite ready to 
take my chance of being killed fighting, but I should 
not like to be seized and hacked to pieces in cold blood. 
My theory is, a man should sell his life as dearly as he 
can.” 

“That is the animal instinct, Forster,” the Doctor 
said sharply though I don’t say that I should not feel 
the same myself; but I question whether Bathurst’s is 
not a higher type of courage.” 

“Well, I don’t aspire to Bathurst’s type of courage. 
Doctor,” Forster said with a short laugh. 

But the Doctor did not answ^er. He had already 
turned away, and was making for the stairs. 

“May I go with you. Doctor?” Isobel Hannaysaid, 
following him. “ It is very hot down here.” 

“Yes. Come along, child; but there is no time to 
lose, for Bathurst must be near where they are likely 
to have posted their sentries by this time.” 

“Everything quiet, Wilson?” he asked the young 
subaltern, who, with another, was on guard on the 
roof. 

“Yes. We have heard nothing except a few distant 
shouts and noises out at the lines. Round here there 
has been nothing moving, except that we heard some 
one go out intathe garden just now.” 

“I went out with Bathurst,” the Doctor said. “He 
has gone in the disguise of a native to the Sepoy lines, 
to find out what are their intentions.” 

“ I heard the talk over it, Doctor. I only came up 
on watch a few minutes since. I thought it was most 
likely him when I heard the steps.” 

“ I hope he- is beyond their sentries,” the Doctor said. 
“ I have come up here to listen.” 

“I expect he is through them before this,” Wilson 
said confidently. “ I wish I could have gone with him ; 
but, of course, it would not have been any good. It is 


IN THE t>AYS OF THE MUTINY. 22 7 

a beautiful night — isn’t it, Miss Hannay? and there is 
scarcely any dew falling.” 

“ Now, you go off to your post in the corner, Wilson. 
Your instructions are to listen for the slightest sound, 
and to assure us against the Sepoys creeping up to the 
walls. We did not come up here to distract you from 
your duties, or to gossip.” 

“ There are Richards and another posted somewhere 
in the garden,”. Wilson said. “Still, I suppose you are 
right. Doctor; but if you. Miss Hannay, have come up 
to listen, come and sit in my corner, it is the one near- 
est to the lines. ” 

“ You may as well go and sit down, Isobel,” the Doc- 
tor said; “that is, if you intend to stay up here long,” 
and they went across with Wilson to his post. “ Shall 
I put one of these sand-bags for you to sit on?” 

“I would rather stand, thanhk you,” and they stood 
for some time silently watching the fires in the lines. 

“ They are drawing pretty heavily on the wood 
stores,” the Doctor growled; “there is a good deal 
more than the regulation allowance blazing in those 
fires. I can make out a lot of figures moving about 
round them, no doubt numbers of the peasants have 
come in.” 

“ Do you think Mr. Bathurst has got beyond the line 
of sentries?” Isobel said, after standing perfectly quiet 
for some time. 

“Oh, yes, a long way; probably he was through by 
the time we came up here. They are not likely to 
post them more than fifty or sixty yards from the wall ; 
and indeed, it is, as Bathurst pointed out to me, likely 
that they are only thick near the gate. All they want 
to do is to prevent us slipping away. I should think 
that Bathurst must be out near the lines by this time.” 

Isobel moved a few paces away from the others and 
again stood listening. 

“ I suppose you do not think that there is any chance 
of an attack to-night. Doctor?” Wilson asked in low 
tones. 

“ Not in the least; the natives are not fond of night 
work. I expect they are dividing the spoil and quar- 


228 


IN THE t)AVS OF THE MUTINY. 


relling over it; anyhow they have had enough of it for 
to-day. They may intend to march away in the morn- 
ing, or they may have sent to Cawnpore to ask for 
orders, or they may have heard from some of the Zem- 
indars that they are coming in to join them ; that is 
what Bathurst has gone out to learn, but, anyhow, I do 
not think they will attack again with their present 
force. ” 

“ I wish there were a few more of u^,” Wilson said ; , 
“so that we could venture on a sally-out.” 

“ So do I, lad ; but it is no use thinking about it as it 
is. We have to wait ; our fate is not in our own hands. ” 

“ And you think matters look bad, Doctor?” 

“ I think they could hardly look worse. Unless the 
mutineers took it into their heads to march away, there 
is, humanly speaking, but one chance for us, and that 
is that Lawrence may thrash the Sepoys so completely 
at Lucknow that he may be able to send out a force to 
bring us in. The chances of that are next to nothing; 
for, in addition to a very large Sepoy force, he has the 
population of Lucknow — one of the most turbulent in 
India — on his hands. Ah, what is that?” 

Two musket-shots in quick succession from the Sepoy 
lines broke the silence of the evening, and a startled 
exclamation burst from the girl standing near them. 

The Doctor went over to her. 

“Do you think — do you think,” she said in a low, 
strained voice; “that it was Bathurst ” 

“ Not at all. If they detected him, and I really do 
not see that there is a chance of their doing so dis- 
guised as he was, they would have seized him and 
probably killed him, but there would be no firing. He 
has gone unarmed, you know, and would offer no re- 
sistance. Those shots you heard were doubtless the 
result of some drunken quarrel over the loot.” 

“ Do you really think so. Doctor?” 

“ I feel quite sure of it. If it had been Forster who 
had gone out and he had been detected, it would have 
been natural enough that we should hear the sound of 
something like a battle. In the first place, he would 
have defended himself desperately, and in the next, he 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


229 


might have made his way through them and escaped; 
but, as I said, with Bathurst there would be no occasion 
for their firing. ” 

“Why didn’t he come in to say good-by before he 
went? that is what I wanted to ask you, Doctor, and 
why I came up here. I wanted to have spoken to him, 
if only for a moment, before he started. I tried to 
catch his eye as he went out of the room with you, but 
he did not even look at me. It will be so hard, if he 
never comes back, to know that he went away without 
my having spoken to him again. I did try this morn- 
ing to tell him that I was sorry for what I said, but he 
would not listen to me.” 

“You will have an opportunity of telling him when 
he comes back, if you want to, or of showing him so by 
your manner, which would be, perhaps, less painful to 
both of you.” 

“I don’t care about pain to myself,” the girl said. 
“ I have been unjust, and deserve it.” 

“ I don’t think he thinks you unjust. I did, and told 
you so. He feels what he considers the disgrace so 
much that it seems to him perfectly natural he should 
be despised.” 

“ Yes, but I want him to see that he is not despised,” 
she said quickly. “You don’t understand, Doctor.” 

“I do understand perfectly, my dear; at least, I 
think — I think I do; I .see that you want to put your- 
self straight with him, which is very right and proper, 
especially placed as we all are ; but I would not do or 
say anything hastily. You have spoken hastily once, 
you see, and made a mess of it.^ I should be careful 

how I did it again, unless, of course ” and he 

stopped. 

“ Unless what. Doctor?” Isobel asked shyly, after a 
long pause. But there was no feply; and, looking 
round, she saw that her companion had moved quietly 
away and had joined Wilson at his po.st. She stood 
for a few minutes in the same attitude, and then moved 
quietly across to the staircase in the centre of the terrace, 
and went down to the party below. A short time later 
the Doctor followed her, and, taking his rifle, went 


230 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


out into the garden with Captain Doolan, who assisted 
him in climbing a tree, and handed his gun up to him. 
The Doctor made his way out on the branch to the spot 
where it extended beyond the wall, and there sat, 
straining his eyes into the darkness. Half an hour 
passed, and then he heard a light footfall on the sandy 
soil. 

“ Is that you, Bathurst?” he whispered. 

“All right. Doctor,” and a minute later Bathurst sat 
on the branch beside him. 

“Well, what’s your news?” 

“Very bad, Doctor; they expect the Rajah For Sing, 
who it seems is the leader of the party in this district, 
and several other Zemindars to be here with guns to- 
morrow or next day. The news from Cawnpore was 
true. The native troops mutinied and marched away, 
but were joined by Nana Sahib and his force, and he 
persuaded them to return and attack the whites in 
their entrenchments at Cawnpore, as they would not be 
well received at Delhi unless they had properly accom- 
plished their share of the work of rooting out the Ferin- 
ghees.” 

“The infernal scoundrel!” the Doctor exclaimed; 
“ after pretending for years to be our best friend; I’m 
disgusted to think that I have drunk his champagne a 
dozen times. However, that makes little difference to 
us now, jour other news is the most important. We 
could have resisted the Sepoys for a month, but if they 
bring up guns there can be but one ending to it.” 

“That is so. Doctor. The only hope I can see is, 
that they may find our resistance so obstinate, as to be 
glad to grant us terms of surrender.” 

“ Yes, there is that chance,” the Doctor agreed ; “ but 
history shows there is but little reliance to be placed 
upon native oaths.” 

Bathurst was silent ; his own experience of the natives 
had taught him the same lesson. 

“ It is a poor hope,” he said after a while, “ but it is 
the only one so far as I can see.” 

Not another word was spoken as they descended the 
tree and walked across to the house. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUJINY. 


231 


“Never mind about changing your things, come 
straight in. ” 

“ Our scout has returned,” the Doctor said, as he en- 
tered the room. There was a general exclamation of 
gladness on the part of the ladies who had not retired. 

“ I am very glad to see you safe back,. Mr. Bathurst,” 
Mrs. Hunter said, going up to him and taking his hand. 
“We have all been very anxious since you left.” 

“ The danger was very slight, Mrs. Hunter. I only 
wish I had brought you back the news that the native 
lines were deserted and the mutineers in full march for 
Delhi and Lucknow. ” , 

“I was afraid you would hardly bring that news, 
Mr. Bathurst ; it was almost too good to hope for. How- 
ever, we are all glad that you are back. Are we not, 
Isobel?” 

“We are indeed, Mr. Bathurst; though, as yet, I can 
hardly persuade myself that it is you in that get-up." 

“ I think there is no doubt of my identity. Can you 
tell me where your uncle is. Miss Hannay? I have to 
make my report to him.” 

“ He is on yie roof. There is a sort of general 
gathering of our defenders there.” 

Two lamps had been placed in the centre of the ter- 
race, and round these the little garrison were grouped, 
some sitting on bo^^es, others lying on mats, almost all 
smoking. Bathurst was greeted heartily by the Major 
and Wilson as soon as he was recognized. 

“I am awfully glad to see you back,” Wilson said, 
shaking him warmly by the hand. “ I wish I could 
have gone with you. Two together does not seem so 
bad, but I should not like to start out by myself as )"ou 
did.” 

There was a hearty cordiality in the young fellow’s 
voice that was very pleasant to Bathurst. 

“ We have all our gifts, as Hawkeye used to say, as I 
have no doubt you remember, Wilson. Such gifts as I 
have laydn the way of solitary work, I fancy.” 

“Now, light a cheroot, Bathurst,” the Major said, 

“ and drink off this tumbler of brandy and soda, and 
then let us hear your story. ” 


232 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“ The story is simple enough, Major. I got through 
without difficulty. The sentries are some distance 
apart round the garden wall. As soon as I discovered 
b)^ the sound of their footsteps where they were, it was 
easy enough to get through them. Then I made a 
longish detour, and came down on the lines on the 
other side. There was. no occasion for concealment 
then. Numbers of the country people had come in, 
and were gathered found the Sepoys’ fires, and I was 
able to move about among them and listen to the 
conversation without the smallest hindrance. 

“ The Sepoys were loudly expressing their dissatis- 
faction at their officers leading them against the house 
to-day, when they had no means of either battering 
down the walls or scaling them. Then there was a 
general opinion that treachery was at work ; for how 
else should the Europeans have known they were going 
to rise that morning, and so moved during the night 
into the house? There was much angry recrimination 
and quarrelling, and many expressed their regret they 
had not marched straight to Cawnpore after burning 
the bungalows. ^ 

“All this was satisfactory; but I learned that Por 
Sing and several other Zemindars had already sent , in 
assurances that they were wholly with them, and would 
be here, with guns to batter down the walls, some time 
to-morrow. ’’ 

“That is bad news, indeed,’’ the Major said gravely, 
when he had finished. “ Of course, when we heard 
that Nana Sahib had thrown in his lot with the muti- 
neers, it was probable that many of the land-owners 
would go the same way; but if the Sepoys had marched 
off they might not have attacked us on their own ac- 
count. Now we know that the Sepoys are going to 
stay, and that they will have guns, it alters our posi- 
tion altogether.’’ 

There was a murmur of assent. 

“ I should tell you before you talk the matter over 
further,’’ Bathurst went on, “that during the last hour 
some hundreds of peasants have taken up their posts 
round the house in addition to the Sepoy sentries. I 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


233 


came back with one party about a hundred strong. 
They are posted a couple of hundred yards or so in 
front of the gate. I slipped away from them in the 
dark and maide my way here. ” 

“Well, gentlemen, what do you think we had better 
do?” the Major said; “we are all in the same boat, and 
I should like to have your opinions. We may defend 
this very successfully for days, possibly we may even 
tire them out, but on the other hand they may prove 
too strong for us. If the wall were breached we could 
hardly hope to defend it, and, indeed, if they con- 
structed plenty of ladders they could scale it at night 
in a score of places. We must therefore regard the 
house as our citadel, close up the lower windows and 
doors with sand-bags, and defend it to the last. Still 
if they are determined the lookout is not a very bright 
one.” 

“ I am in favor of our cutting our way out. Major,” 
Captain Forster said; “if we are cooped up here, we 
must, as you say, in the long run be beaten.” 

“That would be all very well. Captain Forster, if we 
were all men,” Mr. Hunter said. “There are sixteen 
of us, and there are in all eighteen horses, for I and 
Farquharson have two each ; but there are eight women 
and fourteen children ; if all the horses carried double 
and counting two children as one woman, we might 
ride away if nobody opposed us ; but there are your 
troopers to begin with, and we certainly could not hope 
to escape from them with our horses so laden, and if 
they came up with us what fighting could we do with 
women?” 

“Besides, where could we go?” the Doctor asked. 
“ Thg garrison at Cawnpore, we know, are besieged by 
overwhelming numbers. We do not know much as to 
the position at Lucknow, but certainly the Europeans 
are immensely outnumbered there, and I think we may 
assume that they are also besieged. It is a very long 
distance either to Agra or to Allahabad, and with the 
whole country up in arms against us, and the cavalry 
here at our heels, the prospect seems absolutely hope- 
less. What do you think, Doolan? You and Rintoul 


234 


IN THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


have your wives here and you have children. I con- 
sider that the question concerns you married men more 
than us.” 

“ It is a case of the frying-pan and the fire as far as I 
can see, Doctor. At any rate, here we have got walls 
to fight behind and food for weeks, and plenty of am- 
munition. I am for selling our lives as dearly as we 
can here rather than go outside to be chased like 
jackals.” 

“I agree with you, Doolan,” Captain Rintoul said. 

“ We may be able to make terms with them, but once 
outside the walls, we should be at the scoundrels’ mercy. 
If it were not ror the women and children, I should 
agree entirely with Forster, that our best plan would 
be to throw open our gates and make a dash for it, 
keeping together as long as we could and then, if neces- 
sary, separating and trying to make our way down to 
Agra or Allahabad as best we could, but with ladies 
that does not seem to be possible.” 

The opinion of the married civilians was entirely in 
accord with that of Mr. Hunter. 

“ But what hope is there of defending this place in 
the long run?” Captain Forster said. “If I saw any* 
chance at all, I should be quite willing to wait, but I 
would infinitely rather sMly out at once and go for them 
and be killed, than wait here day after day and per- 
haps week after week, seeing one’s fate drawing nearer 
inch by inch. What do you say, Bathurst? We haven’t 
had your opinion yet.” 

“ I do not think that the defence is so hopeless as you 
suppose, although I admit that the chances are greatly 
against us,” Bathurst said quietly. “ I think there is a 
hope of tiring the natives out. The Sepoys know well 
enough there can be no great amount of loot here, 
while they think that were they at Cawnpore, at Luck- 
now, or still more at Delhi, their chances of plunder 
would be much greater. Moreover, I think that rhen 
in their position, having offended as it wei;e without 
hope or pardon, would naturally desire to flock together. 
There is comfort and encouragement in numbers. 
Therefore, I am sure they will very speedily become 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 235 

impatient if they do not meet with success, and would 
be inclined to grant terms rather than waste time here. 

“ It is the same thing with the native gentry. They 
will want to be off to Lucknow or Delhi, where they 
will know more how things are going, and where, no 
doubt, they reckon. upon obtaining posts of importance 
and increased possessions, under the new order of 
things. Therefore, I think they, as well as the 
Sepoys, are likely, if they find the task longer and 
more difficult than they expect, to be ready to grant 
terms. I have no great .faith in native oaths. Still 
they might be kept. 

“ Captain Forster’s proposal I regard as altogether 
impracticable. We are something like two hundred 
and fifty miles from the nearest British post where we 
could hope to find refuge, and with the horses carry- 
ing double, the troopers at our heels directly we start, 
and the country hostile, I see no chance whatever, not 
a vestige of one, of our getting safely away. 

“ But there is a third alternative by which some 
might escape: it is that we should make our way on 
foot, break up into parties of twos and threes; steal 
or fight our way through the sentries, and then for each 
party to shift for itself, making its way as best‘it can, 
travelling by night and lying iip in woods or planta- 
tions by day; getting food at, times from friendly na- 
tives, and subsisting, for the most part, upon what may 
be gathered in the field. In that way some might es- 
cape, but the suffering and hardships of the women and 
children would be terrible. ” 

“I agree with you,” Mr. Hunter said, “such a jour- 
ney would be frightful to contemplate, and I don’t 
think, in our case, that my wife could possibly perform 
such a journey; still some might do so. At any rate I 
think the chances are better than they would be were we 
to ride out in a body. I should suggest. Major, whep 
the crisis seems to be -approaching, that is, when if is 
clear that we can’t defend ourselves much longer, it 
would be fair that each should be at liberty to try to 
get out and make down the country.” 

“ Certainly,” the Major agreed ; “ we are in a position 


236 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

of men on board a sinking ship with the boats gone; 
we should try to the end to save the ship, but when all 
hope of doing that is over, each may try to get to shore 
as he best can. As long as the house can be defended, 
all must remain and bear their share in the struggle, 
but when we decide that it is but a< question of hours, 
all who choose will be at liberty to try to escape.” 

“It will be vastly more difficult then than now,” 
Captain Forster said; “Bathurst made his way out to- 
night without difficulty, but they will be a great deal 
more vigilant when they know we cannot hold out much 
longer. I don’t see how it would be possible for women 
and children to get through them.” 

“ We might then adopt your scheme, to a certain ex- 
tent, Forster,” Major Hannay said; “we could mount, 
sally out suddenly, break through their pickets, and as 
soon as we are beyond them scatter; those who like 
can try to make their way down on horseback those 
who prefer it try to do so on foot. That would at least 
give us an alternative should the siege be pushed on to 
the last, and we find ourselves unable to make terms.” 

There was general assent to the Major’s proposal, 
which seemed to offer better chances than any. There 
was the' hope that the mutineers might tire of the siege 
and march away, that if [they pressed it terms might 
be at last obtained from, them, and that, failing every- 
thing else, the garrison might yet make their way down 
country. 

“ As there is evidently no chance of an attack during 
the night,” the Major said, “we will divide into two 
watches and relieve each other every four hours, that 
will give two-as lookouts on the roof and six in the en- 
closure. As you are senior officer next to rnyself, 
Doolan, you will take charge of one watch; I shall, 
mpelf, take charge of the other. Forster and Wilson 
will be with me, Rintoul and Richards with you.* Mr. 
Hardy, will you and the other gentlemen divide your 
numbers into two watches? Dr. Wade counts as a 
combatant until his hospital begins to fill.” 

“ I fancy he may be counted as a combatant all 
through,” the Doctor muttered. 


m THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


237 


“To-morrow morning,” the Major went on, “we will 
continue the work of filling sand-bags. There are still 
a large number of empty bags on hand. We shall 
want them for all the lower windows and doors, and the 
more there are of them the better; and we must also 
keep a supply in readiness to make a retrenchment if 
they should breach the wall. Now, Mr. Hunter, as 
soon as you have made out your list my watch can go 
on duty, and I should advise the others to turn in with- 
out delay. ” 

When the ladies were informed that half the men 
were going on watch, Mrs. Doolan said : “ I have an 
amendment to propose. Major. Women’s ears are just 
as keen as men’s, and I propose that we supply the 
sentries on the roof. I will volunteer for one. ” 

The whole of the ladies at once volunteered. 

“There is no occasion for so many,” Mrs. Doolan 
said, “ and I propose that to-night, at any rate, I should 
take the first watch with one of the Miss Hunters, and 
that Miss Hannayand the other should take the second. 
That will leave all the gentlemen available for the 
watch in the enclosure.” 

The proposal was agreed to, and in a short time the 
first watch had taken their station, and the rest of the 
garrison lay down to rest. 

The night passed off quietly. The first work at 
which the Major set the garrison in the morning was to 
form six wooden stages against the wall, one by the 
gate, one against the wall at the other end, and two at 
each of the long sides of the enclosure. They were 
twelve feet in height, which enabled those upon them 
to stand head and shoulders above the level of the wall. 

When these were completed the whole of the garri- 
son, including the ladies and native servants, again set 
to work filling sand-bags with earth. As fast as they 
were finished they were carried in and piled two deep 
against the lower windows, and three deep against the 
doors, only one small door being left undefended so as 
to allow passage in and out of the house. Bags were 
piled in readiness for closing this also in case of neces- 
sity. 


23S IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

Mrs. Rintoul and another lady had volunteered for 
a third watch on the roof, so that each watch would go 
on duty once every twelve hours; the whole of the 
men, therefore, were available for work below. 

A scattered fire was opened at the house soon after 
daybreak, and was kept up without intermission from 
bushes and other cover, but the watches on the roof, 
seated behind the sand-bags at opposite angles, were 
well under shelter, peering out occasionally through 
the crevices between the bags to see that no general 
movement was taking place among the enemy. 

About mid-day there was a desultory discharge of 
fire-arms from the native lines, and the Major, on as- 
cending to the roof, saw a procession of elephants and 
men approaching the camp. 

“I expect there are guns there,” he muttered, “and 
they are going to begin in earnest. Ladies, you are 
relieved of duty at present. I expect we shall be hear- 
ing from those fellows soon, and we must have some 
one up here who can talk back to them.” 

Accordingly the Doctor and Mr. Farquharson, one of 
the civilians, who was also a good shot, took the places 
of the ladies on the roof. Half an hour later the Major 
went up again. 

“ They have four cannon,” the Doctor said. “ There 
they are, on that slight rise to the left of the lines. I 
should fancy they are about eight hundred yards away. 
Do you see, there is a crowd gathering behind them? 
Our rifles will carry that distance easily enough, I think. 
You might as well let us have three or four more up 
here. The two lads are both fair shots and Hunter was 
considered a good shikari some years ago. We can 
drive their cannon off there; the farther we make them 
take up their post the better, but even at that distance 
their shooting will be wild. . The guns are no doubt 
old ones and as likely as not the shot won’t fit. At 
any rate, though they may trouble us they will do no 
serious harm till they establish a battery at pretty close 
quarters. ” 

The Major went down, and the two subalterns and 
Mr. Hunter joined the Doctor on the roof. 


IN ttiE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 339 

Ten minutes later the boom of four guns in quick 
succession was heard, and the party below stopped for 
a moment at their work as they heard the sound of shot 
rushing through the air overhead ; then came four shots 
back from the parapet. Again and again the rifles 
spoke out, and then the Doctor shouted down to those 
in the court-yard “ They have had enough of it al- 
ready, and are bringing up the elephants to move the 
cannon back. Now, boys,” he said to the subalterns, 
“ an elephant is an easier mark than a tiger — aim care- 
fully, and blaze away as quickly as you like.” 

For five minutes a rapid fire was kept up; then Wil- 
son went below. 

“The Doctor asked me to tell you, sir,” he said to 
the Major, “ that the guns have been removed. There 
has been great confusion among the natives, and we 
can see with our glasses eight or ten bodies left on the 
ground. One of the elephants turned and went off at 
full speed among the crowd, and we fancy some of the 
others were hit. There was great trouble in getting 
them to come up to the guns. The Doctor says it is 
all over for the present. ” 

Two other large parties with elephants were seen to 
come up to the native lines in the course of the after- 
noon. Th^ defenders of the roof had now turned their 
attention to their foes in the gardens around, and the 
fire thence had, gradually ceased, and by the evening 
everything was quiet. 

By this time the work of billing the sand-bags was 
completed, the doors and windows had been barricaded, 
and a large pile of bags lay in the enclosure ready for 
erection at any threatened point. 


CHAPTER XV. 

When the party met at dinner they were for a time 
somewhat silent, for all were exhausted by their hard 
work under a blazing sun, but their spirits rose under 
their surroundings. 

The native servants had laid the table with as scru- 


240 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

pulous care as usual ; and except that there was no dis- 
play of flowers, no change was observable. 

All had dressed after the work was over, and the 
men were in white drill, and the ladies had, from 
custom, put on light evening gowns. 

The cook had prepared an excellent dinner, and as 
the champagne went round no stranger would have 
supposed that the party had niet under such unusual 
circumstances. The Doctor and the two subalterns 
were unaffectedly ga)^ and as the rest all made an ef- 
fort to be cheerful, the languor that had marked the 
commencement of the dinner soon wore off. 

“Wilson &nd Richards are becoming quite sports- 
men," the Doctor said. “ They have tried their hands 
at tigers, but could hardly have expected to take part 
in elephant shooting. They can’t quite settle between 
themselves as to which it was who sent the Rajah’s 
elephant flying among the crowd. Both declare they 
aimed at that special beast. So as there is no deciding 
the point we must consider the honor as divided. ’’ 

“It was rather hard on us," Lsobel said, “to be kept 
working below, instead of being up there seeing what 
was going on. But I consider we quite did our full 
share toward the defence to-day. My hands are quite 
sore with sewing up the mouths of those rough bags. I 
think the chief honors that way lie with Mrs. Rintoul. 
I am sure she sewed more bags than any of us. I had 
no idea that you were such a worker, Mrs. Rintoul." 

“ I used to be a quick worker. Miss Hannay, till 
lately. I have not touched a needle since I came out 
to India.” 

“ I should recommend you to keep it up, Mrs. Rin- 
toul," the Doctor said. “It has done you more good 
than all my medicines. I don’t believe I have pre- 
scribed for you for the last month, and I haven’t seen 
you looking so well since you came out." 

“I suppose I have not had time to feel ill. Doctor," 
Mrs. Rintoul said, with a slight smile; “all this has 
been a sort of tonic." 

“ And a very useful one, Mrs. Rintoul. We are all 
of us the better for a little stirring up sometimes. ” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


241 


Captain Forster had as usual secured a place next to 
Isobel Hannay. He had been near her all day, carry- 
ing the bags as he filled them to her to sew up. Bath- 
urst was sitting at the other end of the table, joining 
but little in the conversation. 

“ I thought Bathurst was going to faint again when 
the firing began. Miss Hannay,” Captain Forster said, 
in a low voice. “ It was quite funny to see him give a 
little start each shot that was fired, and his face was 
as white as my jacket. I never saw such a nervous 
fellow. ” 

“You know he cannot help it, Captain Forster,” 
Isobel said indignantly. “ I don’t think it is right to 
make fun of him for what is a great misfortune.” 

“ I am not making fun of him. Miss Hannay. I am 
pitying him. ” 

“ It did not sound like it, ” Isobel said. “ I don’t think 
you can understand it. Captain Forster ; it must be ter- 
rible to be like that.” 

“I quite agree with you there. I know I should 
drown myself or put a bullet through my head if I 
could not show ordinary courage with a Ibt of ladies 
going on working quietly round me. ” 

“You must remember that Mr. Bathurst showed 
plenty of courage in going out among the mutineers 
last night. ” 

“Yes, he did that very well, but, you see, he talks 
the language so thoroughly that, as he said himself, 
there was very little risk in it. ” 

“I don’t like you to talk so. Captain Forster,” Isobel 
said quietly. “ I do not see much of Mr. Bathurst. I 
have not spoken to him half a dozen times in the last 
month, but both my uncle and Doctor Wade have a 
high opinion of him, and do not consider that .he should 
be personally blamed for being nervous under fire. I 
feel very sorry for him, and would much rather that 
you did not make remarks like that about him. We 
have all our weak points, and no doubt many of them 
are a good deal worse than a mere want of nerve. ” 

“ Your commands shall be obeyed. Miss Hannay. I 
did not know that Bathurst was a prot^gd oi the Major’s 
16 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINV. 


242 

or of the estimable Doctor’s, or I would have said noth- 
ing against him.” 

“ I don’t think Mr. Bathurst is the sort of man to be 
any one’s Captain Forster,” Isobel said coldly. 
“ However, I think we had better change the subject.” 

This Captain Forster did easily and adroitly. He 
had no special feeling against Bathurst save a contempt 
for his weakness, and as he had met him but once or 
twice at the Major’s since he came to the station, he 
had no thought of him in the light of a rival. 

Just as dinner was over Richards and one of the 
civilians came down from the terrace. 

“ I think that there is something up. Major. I can 
hear noises somewhere near where Mr. Hunter’s bun- 
galow was. ” 

“ What sort of noises, Richards?” 

“ There is a sort of murmur as if there weje a good 
many men there.” 

“Well, gentlemen, we had better go to our posts,” 
the Major said. “ Doolan, please place your watch on 
the platforms by the wall. I will take my part up on 
to the terratie. Doctor, will you bring up some of those 
rockets you made the other day? We must try and find 
out what they are doing.” 

As soon as he gained the terrace with his party, the 
Major requested everyone to remain perfectly still, and 
going forward to the parapet listened intently. In 
three or four minutes he returned to the others. 

“ There is a considerable body of men at work there,” 
he said. “ I can hear muffled sounds, like digging, and 
once or twice a sharp click, as if a spade struck a stone. 
I am very much afraid they are throwing up a battery 
there. I was in hopes they would have begun in the 
open, because we could have commanded the ap- 
proaches ; but if they begin among the trees, they can 
come in and out without our seeing them, and bring up 
their guns by the road without our being able to inter- 
fere with them. Mr. Bathurst, will you take down 
word to Captain Doolan to put his men on the plat- 
forms on that side? Tell him that I am going to throw 
up a rocket, as I believe they are erecting a battery 


IN THE DAYS OP THE MUTINY. 


^45 


near Hunter’s bungalow, and that the men are to be 
ready to give them a volley if they can make them out. 
Tell them not to expose themselves too much, for. if 
they are really at work there, no doubt they have num- 
bers of men posted in the shrubs all about to keep down 
our fire. Now, gentlemen, we will all lie down by 
the parapet. Take those spare rifles, and fire as quickly 
as you can while the light of the rocket lasts. Now, 
Mr. Wilson, we will get you to send up the rockets. 
You had better get in the corner and stoop 'down be- 
hind the sand-bags ; you can lay your rifles on them, so 
as to be able to fire as soon as you have lit the second 
rocket. ” 

The Doctor soon came up with the rockets ; he had 
made three dozen the week before, and a number of 
blue lights, for the special purpose of detecting any 
movement that the enemy might make at night. 

“ I will fire them myself,” he said, as Wilson offered 
to take them. “ I have had charge of the fireworks in 
a score of fHes and that sort of thing, and am a pretty 
good hand at it. There, we will lean them against the 
sand-bags. That is about it. Now, are you all ready. 
Major?” 

“ All ready!” replied the Major. 

The Doctor placed the end of his lighted cheroot 
against the touch-paper, there was a momentary pause, 
then a rushing sound, and the rocket soared high in the 
air, and then burst, throwing out four or five white 
fire-balls, which lit up clearly the spot they were 
watching. 

“There they are,” the Major exclaimed; “just to the 
rig^ht of the bungalow; there are scores of them.” 

The rifles, both from the terrace and the platforms 
below, cracked out in rapid succession, and another 
rocket flew up into the air and burst. Before its light 
had faded out each of the defenders had fired his four 
shots. Shouts and cries from the direction in which 
they fired showed that many of the bullets had told, 
while almost immediately a sharp fire broke out from 
the bushes round them. 

“Don’t mind the fellows in the bushes,” the Major 


244 t)AVS OP THE MUPINV, 

said, “ but keep up your fire on the battery. We know 
its exact position now, though We cannot actually make 
them out.” 

“ Let them wait while I go down and get a bit of 
phosphorus,” the Doctor said. “I have some in tl^e 
surgery. They will only throw away their fire in the 
dark without it. ” 

He soon returned, and when all the fore and back 
sights had been rubbed by the phosphorus the firing 
recommenced, and the Doctor sent Wilson down with 
the phosphorus to the men on the platforms facing the 
threatened point. 

Bathurst was returning, after having given the 
message to Captain Doolan, when Mrs. Hunter met 
him in the passage. She put her hand kindly on his 
shoulder. 

‘‘ Now, Mr. Bathurst, if you will take my advice you 
will remain quietly here. The Doctor tells me they 
are going to open fire, and it is not the least use your 
going there exposing yourself to be shot when you 
know that you will be of no use. You showed us 
yesterday that you could be of use in other ways, and I 
have no doubt you will have opportunities of doing so 
again. I can assure you none of us will think any the 
worse of you for not being able to struggle against a 
nervous affection that gives you infinite pain. If they 
were attacking it would be different ; I know you would 
be wanting to take your share then.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hunter,” he said, “but I must go 
Up. I grant that I shall be of no use, but at least I will 
take any chance that the others run of being shot. A 
man does not flinch from a painful operation, and 
whatever the pain it has to be faced. I may get used 
to it in time, but whether I do or not I must go through 
it, though I do not say it doesn’t hurt.” 

At this moment the rattle of musketry broke out 
above. Bathurst gave a violent start, and-a low cry as 
of pain ; then he rushed past Mrs. Hunter and up the 
staircase to the terrace, when he staggered rather than 
walked forward to the parapet, and threw himself down 
beside two figures, who were in the act of firing. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


245 


“Is that you, Bathurst?” the Major’s voice asked. 
“ Mind, mind, don’t lift your head above the sand-bags 
in that way. There, you had best lie quiet ; the natives 
have no idea of attacking, and it is of no use throwing 
away ammunition by firing unless your hand is steady.” 
, But Bathurst did not hear, and remained with his 
1 head above the line of sand-bags until the Major put 
his hand on his shoulder and forced him down. He 
might have put his hand over his ears to deaden the 
sound, for in the darkness no one would have seen the 
action, but he would not do so, but with clenched teeth 
and quivering nerve lay there until the Major said, “ I 
fancy we have stopped them working. Now, Doctor, 
do you. Hunter, Bathurst, and Farquharson go and lie 
down for four hours, when I will send for you to take 
our places. Before you lie down, will you tell Doolan 
to send half his party in? Of course you will lie down 
in your clothes, ready to fall in at your posts at a mo- 
ment’s notice. ” 

“ Let me send another rocket up first, Major, to see 
what they are doing. We can sleep to-morrow in the 
daytime; they won’t dare to work under our fire then. 
Now, get ready, gentlemen, and don’t throw away a 
shot, if they are still working there.” 

The light of the rocket showed that there were now 
no natives at the spot where they had been seen at work. 

“ I thought it would be too hot for them. Major, at 
such close quarters as these. We must have played 
the mischief with them.” 

“ All the better. Doctor ; we will send a few shots 
there occasionally to show them we have not forgotten 
them. But the principal thing will be to keep our ears 
open to see that they don’t bring up ladders and try a 
rush.” 

“ I think there is no fear of that to-night. Major. 
They would not have set to work at the battery if they 
had any idea of trying to scale the wall with ladders. 
That will come later on; but I don’t think you will be 
troubled any more to-night, except by these fellows 
firing away from the bushes, and I should think they 
would get tired of wasting their ammunition soon, It 


246 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

is fortunate we brought all the spare ammunition in 
here.” 

“Yes, they only had ten rounds of ball cartridge, 
and that must be nearly used up by this time. They 
will have to make up their cartridges in future, and 
cast their bullets, unless they can get a supply from 
some of the other mutineers.” 

“ Well, you will send for us in four hours. Major?” 

“ You need not be afraid of my forgetting.” 

Dawn was just breaking when the relief were called 
up ; the firing had died away, and all was quiet. 

“You will take command here, Rintoul,” the Major 
said. “ I should keep Farquharson up here, if I were 
you, and leave the Doctor and Bathurst to look after 
things in general. I think. Doctor, it would be as well 
if we appointed Bathurst in charge of the general ar- 
rangements of the house. We have a good amount of 
stores, but the servants will waste them if they are not 
looked after. I should put them on rations, Bathurst ; 
and there might be regular rations of things served 
out for us too; then it would fall in your province to 
see that the syces water and feed the horses. You will 
examine the well regularly, and note whether there is 
any change in the look of the water. I think you will 
find plenty to do ” 

“Thank you. Major,” Bathurst said. “I appreciate 
your kindness, and for the present, at any rate, will 
gladly undertake the work of looking after the stores 
and servants; but there is one thing I have been think- 
ing of, and which I should like to speak to you about 
at once, if you could spare a minute or two before you 
turn in.” 

“What is that, Bathurst?” 

“ I think that we are agreed. Major, that though we 
may hold this place for a time, sooner or later we must 
either surrender or the place be carried by storm.” 

Major Hannay nodded. 

“ That is what it must come to, Bathurst. If they 
will at last grant us terms, well and good ; if not, we 
must either try to escape or die fighting.” 

“ It is about the escape I have &en thinking. Major; 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


247 


as our position grows more and more desperate, they 
will close round us, and although we might have pos- 
sibly got through last night, our chances of doing so 
when they have once’ broken into the enclosure and 
begin to attack the house itself are very slight. A few 
of us who can speak the language well, might possibly 
in disguise get away, but it would be impossible for 
the bulk of us to do so.” 

“ I quite see that, Bathurst.” 

“ My proposal is, Major, that we should begin at once 
to mine, that is, to drive a gallery from the cellar and 
to carry it on steadily as far as we can. I should say 
that we have ten days or a fortnight before us before 
matters get to an extremity, and in that time we ought 
to be able to get, working night and day, from fifty to 
a hundred yards beyond the wall, aiming at a clump of 
bushes. There is a large one in Farquharson’s com- 
pound about a hundred yards off. Then, when things 
get to the worst, we can work upward and come out 
on a dark night. We might leave a long fuse burning 
in the magazine, so that there should be an explosion 
an hour or two after we had left. There is enough 
powder there to bring the house down, and the Sepoys 
might suppose that we had all been buried in the ruins.” 

“ I think the idea is a very good one, Bathurst. What 
do you think. Doctor?” 

“ Capital,” the Doctor said. “ It is a light sandy soil, 
and we should be able to get though it at a good rate. 
How many can work together, do you think, Bathurst?” 

“ I should say two of us in each shift, to drive, and 
if necessary, prop the roof ; with some of the natives 
to carry out the earth. If we have three shifts, each 
shift would go on twice in the twenty-four hours ; that 
would be four hours on and eight hours off. ” 

“Will you take charge of the operation, Bathurst?” 

“With pleasure. Major.” 

“Very well, then. You shall have with 5’'ou Wilson 
and Richards and the three youngest of the civilians, 
Farquharson, Austin, and Herbert. You six will be 
relieved from other duty except when the enemy 
threaten an attack, I will put down Farquharson and 


248 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

Austin together. Which of the others would you like 
to have with you?” 

“ I will take Wilson, sir.” 

“ Very well, then, Richards and Herbert will make 
the third party. After breakfast we can pick out the 
twelve strongest of the natives. I will tell them that 
they have to work, but that they will be each paid half 
a rupee a day in addition to their ordinary wages. 
Then you will give a general supervision to tbe work, 
Bathurst, in addition to your own share in it?” 

“Certainly, Major, I will take general charge of it.” 

So at breakfast the Major explained the plan agreed 
upon. The five men chosen at once expressed their 
willingness to undertake the work, and the offer of half 
a rupee extra a day was sufficient to induce twelve of 
the servants to volunteer for it. The Major went down 
to the cellars and fixed upon the spot at which the work 
should, begin; and Bathurst and Wilson, taking some of 
the intrenching tools from the store-room, began to 
break through the wall without delay. 

“I like this,” Wilson said. “It is a thousand times 
better than sitting up there waiting till they choose to 
make an attack. How wide shall we make it?” 

“As. narrow as we can for one to pass along at a 
time,” Bathurst said. “The narrower it is, the less 
trouble we shall have with the roof. ” 

“ But only one will be able to work at a time in that 
case.” 

“That will be quite enough,” Bathurst said. “It 
will be hot work and hard. We will relieve each other 
every five minutes or so.” 

A very short time sufficed to break through the wall. 

“Thank goodness it is earth!” Wilson said, thrusting 
a crowbar through the opening as soon as it was made. 

“ I had no fear of its being rock, Wilson. If it had 
been they would not have taken the trouble to have 
walled the sides of the cellar. The soil is very deep 
all over here. The natives have to line their wells 
thirty or forty feet down.” 

The enemy were quiet all day, but the garrison 
thought it likely that, warned by the lesson of the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


249 


night before, they were erecting 9, battery some dis- 
tance farther back, masked by the trees, and that until 
it was ready to open fire they would know nothing 
about it. 

“So you have turned miner, Mr. Wilson?” Isobel 
Hannay said to him as, after a change and a bath, he 
came in to get his lunch. 

“ I calculate I have lost half a stone in weight, Miss 
Hannay. If I were to go on at this for a month or two 
there would be nothing left of me. ” 

“ And how far did you drive ^:he hole?” 

“ Gallery, Miss Hannay, please call it a gallery, it 
sounds so much better. We got in five yards. I should 
hardly have believed it possible, but Bathurst is a 
tremendous fellow to work. He uses a pick as if he had 
been a sapper all his life. We kept the men pretty 
hard at work, I can tell you, carrying up the earth. 
Richards is at work now, and I bet him five rupees 
that he and Herbert don’t drive as far as we did.” 

“ There is not much use in betting now, Mr. Wilson,” 
Isobel said sadly. 

“ No, I suppose not. Miss Hannay; but it gives a sort 
of interest to one’s work. I have blistered my hands 
horribly, but I suppose they will get hard in a day or 
two.” 

“ I wish we could work at something,” Isobel said. 
“ Now that we have finished with the bags and band- 
ages, the time seems very long; the only thing there is 
to do is to play with the children and try to keep* them 
good ; it is fortunate there is a bit of garden for them 
to play in.” 

“ It is not much of a garden. Miss Hanna}^. We had 
something like a garden when I was a boy at home: 
the governor’s is a jolly old rectory, with a splendid 
garden. What fun we used to have there when I was 
a young one! I wonder what the dear old governor 
and mater would say if they knew the fix we were in 
here. You know, sometimes I think that Forster’s 
plan was the best, and that it would be better to try 
and make a dash through them.” 

“ Wc ^re in your way, Mr, Wilson; you wouldn’t be 


250 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


able to do much fighting if you had one of us clinging 
to you.” 

“I don’t know, Miss Hannay,” Wilson said quietly, 
“ what my fighting powers are, but I fancy if you were 
clinging to me I could cut my way through a good deal. ” 

“ I am sure you would do anything that any one could 
do,” the girl said kindly; “but whatever you might 
feel, having another person behind you could not but 
hamper you awfully. I would infinitely rather try to 
escape on foot, for then I should be relying on myself, 
while if I was riding ’behind any one, and we were 
pursued or attacked, I should feel all the time I were 
destroying his chances, and that if it were not for me 
he would get away. That would be terrible. I don’t 
know whether we were wise to stay here instead of try- 
ing to escape at once ; but as uncle and Mr. Hunter 
and the others all thought it wiser to stay, I have no 
doubt it was; but I am quite sure that it could not have 
been a good plan to go off like that on horseback.” 

Another day passed quietly, and then during the night 
the watch heard the sounds of blows with axes and of 
falling trees. 

“ They are clearing the ground in front of their bat- 
tery,” the Major, who was on the watch with his party, 
said ; “ it will begin in earnest to-morrow morning. 
The sound came from just where we expected ; it is about 
in the same line as where they made their first attempt, 
but a hundred yards or so further back.” 

At daylight they saw that the trees and bushes had 
been levelled and a battery with embrasures for six 
guns-erected at a distance of about four hundred j^-ards 
from the house. More sand-bags were at once brought 
up from below^and the parapet on the side facing the 
battery raised two feet and doubled in thickness. The 
garrison were not disturbed while so engaged. 

“ Why the deuce don’t the fellows begin?” Captain 
Forster said impatiently, as he stood looking over the 
parapet, when the work was finished. 

“ I expect they are waiting for the Rajah and some 
of the principal Zemindars to come down,” replied the 
Major; “the guns are theirs, yon see, and will most 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


251 

likely be worked by' their own followers. No doubt 
they think they will knock the place to pieces in a few 
minutes. Listen! there is music; they are coming" in 
state, no doubt. Rintoul, will you telb the workers in 
the mine to come up? By the way, who fire at work 
now?” 

“ Bathurst and Wilson, sir.” 

“Then tell Wilson to come up, and request Bathurst 
to go on with the gallery. Tell him I want that pushed 
forward as fast as possible, and that one gun will not 
make much difference here. Request the ladies and 
children to go down into the store-room for the present. 
I don’t think the balls will go through the wall, but it 
is as well to be on the safe side.” 

Captain Rintoul delivered his message to the ladies. 
They had already heard that the battery had been un- 
masked and was ready to open fire, and lamps had been 
placed in the store-room in readiness for them. There 
were pale faces among them, but their thoughts were 
of those on the roof rather than of themselves. 

Mrs. Hunter took up the Bible she had been reading, 
and said, “Tell them, Captain Rintoul, we shall be 
praying for them.” ‘The ladies went into the room 
that served as a nursery, and with the ayahs and other 
female servants carried the children down into the 
store-room. 

“ I would much rather be up there, ” Isobel said to Mrs. 
Doolan ; “ we could load the muskets for them, and I 
don’t think it would be anything like so bad if we could 
see what was going on as being cooped up below fancy- 
ing the worst all the time.” 

“ I quite agree with you, but the men never will get 
to understand women. Perhaps before we are done 
they will recognize the fact that we are no more afraid 
than they are. ” 

The music was heard approaching along the road 
where the bungalows had stood. Presently a number 
of flags were raised in the battery amid a great beating 
of drums. On the previous day a flagstaff had been 
erected on the roof, and a Union Jack was run up in 
answer to the enemy’s demonstration, 


252 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“ A cheer for the old flag, lads, ” the Major said, and 
a hearty cheer broke from the little party on the roof, 
where, with the exception of Bathurst, all the garrison 
were assembled. The cheer was answered by a yell 
from the natives not only in the battery, but from the 
gardens and enclosures round the house. 

“ Pa}^ no attention to the fellows in the gardens,” the 
Major said; “ fire at their guns, they must expose them- 
selves to load. ” 

The men were kneeling behind the parapet, where 
the sand-bags had been so arranged that they could see 
through between those on the upper line, and thus fire 
without raising their heads above it. 

“Shall we wait for them or fire first. Major?” the 
Doctor asked. 

“ I expect the guns are loaded and laid. Doctor, but 
if you see a head looking along them by all means take 
a shot at it. I wish we could see down into the battery 
itself, but it is too high for that.” 

The Doctor lay looking along his rifle; presently he 
fired, and as if it had been the signal five cannon 
boomed out almost at the same moment, the other be- 
ing fired a ’quarter of a minute later. Three of the 
shot struck the house below the parapet, the other shot 
went overhead. 

“ I hit my man,” the Doctor said, as he thrust another 
rifle through the loop-hole. “ Now we will see if we 
can’t keep them from loading.” 

Simultaneously with the roar of the cannon a rattle 
of musketry broke out on three sides of the house, and 
a hail of bullets whistled over the heads of the defen- 
ders, who opened a steady fire at the embrasures of the 
guns. These had been run in, and the natives could 
be seen loading them. The Major examined the work 
through a pair of field-glasses. 

“You are doing well,” he said presently; “I have 
seen several of them fall, and there is a lot of confusion 
among them ; they will soon get tired of that game. ” 

Slowly and irregularly the guns were run out again, 
and the fire of the defenders was redoubled to prevent 
from taking aim. Only one shot hit the house 


IN THE DAYS OE THE MUTINY. 


2^3 

this time, the others all going overhead. The fire of 
the enemy became slower and more irregular, and at 
the end of an hour ceased almost entirely. 

“Doctor,” the Major said, “I will get you and Far- 
quharson to turn your attention to some fellows there 
are in that high tree over there. They command us 
completely, and many of their bullets have struck on 
the terrace behind us. It would not be safe to move 
across to the stairs now. I think we have pretty well 
silenced the battery for the present. Here are my 
glasses. With them you can easily make out the fel- 
lows among the leaves. ” 

“ I see them,” the Doctor said, handing the glasses to 
Farquharson; “we will soon get them out of that. 
Now, Farquharson, you take that fellow out on the 
lower branch to the right; I will take the one close to 
the trunk on the same branch. ” 

Laying their rifles on the upper row of sand-bags, the 
two men took a steady aim. They fired almost to- 
gether, and two bodies were seen to fall from the tree. 

“Well shot!” the Major exclaimed. “There are 
something like a dozen of them up there ; but they will 
clear out if you keep that up.” 

“ They are not more than two hundred yards away,” 
the Doctor said, “ and firing from a rest we certainly 
ought not to miss them at that distance. Give me the 
glasses again.” 

A similar success attended the next two shots, and 
then a number of figures were seen hastily climbing 
down. 

“Give them a volley, gentlemen,” the Major said. 

A dozen guns were fired and three more men 
dropped, and an angry yell from the natives answered 
the shout of triumph from the garrison. 

“Will you go down, Mr. Hunter, and tell the ladies 
that we have silenced the guns for the present, and that 
no one has received a scratch? Now let us see what 
damage their balls have effected. ” 

This was found to be trifling. The stonework of the 
house was strong and the guns were light. The stone- 
work of one of the windows was broken and'two or three 


§54 THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

stones in the wall cracked. One ball had entered a 
window, torn its way through two inner walls, and lay 
against the back wall. 

“It is a four-pound ball,” the Major said, taking it 
up. “I fancy the guns are seven-pounders. They 
have evidently no balls to fit, which accounts for the 
badness of their firing and the little damage they did: 
with so much windage the balls can have had but small 
velocity. Well, that is a satisfactory beginning, gentle- 
men; they will take a long time to knock the place 
about our ears at this rate. Now we will see if we 
cannot clear them out of the gardens. Captain Doolan, 
will you take the glasses and watch the battery? If you 
see any movement about the guns the fire will be re- 
opened at once ; until then all will devote their atten- 
tion to those fellows among the bushes : it is important 
to teach them that they are not safe there, for a chance 
ball might come in between the sand-bags. Each of 
you pick out a particular bush, and watch it till you see 
the exact position in which any one firing from it must 
be in, and then try to silence him. Don’t throw away 
a shot if you can help it. We have a good stock of am- 
munition, but it is as well not to waste it. I will leave 
you in command at present, Doolan.” 

Major Hannay then went down to the store-room. 

“ I have come to relieve you from your confinement, 
ladies,” he said. “ I am glad to .say that we find their 
balls will not penetrate the walls of the house alone, 
and there is therefore no fear whatever of their passing 
through them and the garden wall together: therefore, 
as long as the wall is intact, there is no reason what- 
ever why you should not remain on the floor above.” 

There was a general exclamation of pleasure. 

“That will be vastly better, uncle,” Isobel said; “it 
is hateful being hidden away down here when we have 
nothing to do but to listen to the firing; we don’t see 
why some of us should not go up on to the terrace to 
load the rifles for you. ” 

“ Not at present, Isobel, we are not pressed yet. 
When it comes to a real attack it will be time to con- 
sider about that. I don’t think any of us would shoot 


In the days oe the mhtihv. 


255 

straighter if there were women up among’ us in dan- 
ger. ” 

I don’t at all see why it should be worse our being 
in danger than for you men, Major,” Mrs. Doolan said ; 
“ we have just as much at stake and more, and I warn 
you I shall organize a female mutiny if we are not al- 
lowed to help.” 

The Major laughed. 

“Well, Mrs. Doolan, I shall have to convert this 
store-room into a prison, and all who defy my authority 
will be immured here — so now you know the conse- 
quence of disobedience. ” 

“And has no one been hurt with all that firing. 
Major Hannay?” Mary Hunter asked. 

“ A good many people have been hurt. Miss Hunter, 
but no one on our side. I fancy we must have made 
it very hot for them with the guns, and the Doctor and 
Mr. Farquharson have been teaching them not to climb 
trees. At present, that firing you hear is against those 
who are hiding in the gardens. ” 

An hour later, the firing ceased altogether, the na- 
tives finding the fire of the defenders so deadly that 
they no longer dared, by discharging a rifle, to show 
where they were hiding. The had drawn off from the 
more distant clumps and bushes, but dared not try and 
crawl from those nearer the house until after nightfall. 

The next morning it was found that during the night 
the enemy had closed up their embrasures, leaving 
only openings sufficiently large for the muzzle of the 
gun to be thrust through, and soon after daybreak they 
renewed their fire. The Doctor and Mr. Farquharson 
alone remained on the roof, and throughout the day 
they kept up a steady fire at these openings whenever 
the guns were withdrawn. Several of the sand-bags 
were knocked off the parapet during the course of the 
day, and a few shot found their way through the walls 
of the upper story, but beyond this no damage was 
done. The mining was kept up with great vigor, and 
the gallery advanced rapidly, the servants finding it 
very hard work to remove the earth as fast as the mi- 
ners brought it down. 


256 tN tHE t).AYS OF THE MUTINY. 

Captain Forster offered to go out with three others 
at night to try and get into the battery and spike the 
guns, but Major Hannay would not permit the attempt 
to be made. 

“We know they have several other guns,” he said, 
“ and the risk would be altogether too great, for there 
would be practically no chance of your getting back and 
being drawn up over the wall before you were over- 
taken, even if you succeeded in spiking the guns. There 
are probably a hundred men sleeping in the battery, 
and it is likely they would have sentries out in front of 
it. The loss of four men would seriously weaken the 
garrison.” 

The next morning another battery to the left was un- 
masked, and on the following day three guns were 
planted, under cover, so as to play against the gate. 
The first battery now concentrated its fire upon the 
outer wall, the new battery played upon the upper part 
of the house, and the three guns kept up a steady fire at 
the gate. 

There was little rest for the besieged now. It was a 
constant duel between their rifles and the guns, varied 
b)’’ their occasionally turning their attention to men 
who climbed trees, or who, from the roofs of some 
buildings still standing, endeavored to keep down their 
fire. 

Wilson had been released from his labors in the gal- 
lery, Bathurst undertaking to get down the earth single- 
handed as fast as the servants could remove it. 

“I never saw such a fellow to work. Miss Hannay,” 
Wilson said one day when he. was off duty and hap- 
pened to find her working alone at some bandages. “ I 
know you don’t like him, but he is a first-rate fellow if 
there ever was one. It is unlucky for him being so 
nervous at the guns, but that is no fault of his after all, 
and I am sure in other things he is as cool as possible. 
Yesterday, I was standing close to him, shoving the 
earth back to the men as he got it down. Suddenly he 
shouted, ‘Run, Wilson, the roof is coming down!’ I 
could not help bolting a few yards, for the earth came 
pattering down as he spoke ; then I looked round and 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 257 

saw him standing there, by the light of the lamp, like 
those figures you see holding up pillars ; I forget what 
they call them — catydigs or something of that sort. ” 

“Caryatides,” Isobel put in. 

“Yes, that is the name. Some timber had given 
way above him, and he was holding it up with his arms ; 
I should say that there must have been half a ton of it, 
and he said, as quietly as possible: ‘Get two of those 
short poles, Wilson, and put up one on each side of me. 
I can hold it a bit, but don’t be longer than you can 
help about it. ’ I managed to shove up the timber, so 
that he could slip out before it came down. It would 
have crushed us both to a certainty if he had not held 
it up.” 

“Why do you say you know I don’t like Mr. Bath- 
urst?” 

“I don’t exactly know. Miss Hannay, but I have 
noticed you are the only lady who does not chat with 
him. I don’t think I have seen you speak to him since 
we have come in here. I am sorry, because I like him 
very much, and I don’t care for Forster at all.” 

“What has Captain Forster to do with it?” Isobel 
asked, somewhat indignantly. 

“ Oh, nothing at all, Miss Hannay, only, you know, 
Bathurst used to be a good deal at the Major’s before 
Forster came, and then after that I never met him there 
except on that evening before he came in here. Now 
you know. Miss Hannay,” he went on, earnestly, “what 
I think about you. I have not been such an ass as to 
suppose I ever had a chance, though you know I would 
lay down my life for you willingly; but I did not seem 
to mind Bathurst. I know he is an awfully good fellow, 
and would have made you very happy; but I don’t feel 
like that with Forster. There is nothing in the world 
that I should like better than to punch his head ; and 
when I see that a fellow like that has cut Bathurst out 
altogether, it makes me so savage sometimes that I 
have to go and smoke a pipe outside so as not to break 
out and have a row with him.” 

“ You ought not to talk so, Mr. Wilson. It is very 
wrong. You have no right to say that any one has cut 

17 


258 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

any one else out as far as I am concerned. I know you 
are all fond of me in a brotherly sort of way, and I like 
you very much ; but that gives you no right to say such 
things about other people. Mr. Bathurst ceased his 
visits, not because of Captain Forster but from another 
reason altogether; and certainly I have neither said 
nor done anything that would justify your saying that 
Captain Forster had cut Mr. Bathurst out. Even if I 
had, you ought not to have alluded to such a thing. I 
am not angry with you,” she said, seeing how down- 
cast he looked ; “ but you must not talk like that any 
more ; it would be wrong at any time ; it is specially so 
now, when we are all shut up here together, and none 
can say what will happen to us.” 

‘‘ It seemed to me that was just the reason why I could 
speak about it. Miss Hannay. We may none of us get 
out of this fix we are in, and I do think we ought all to 
be friends together now. Richards and I both agreed 
that as it was certain neither of us had a chance of 
winning you, the next best thing was to see you and 
Bathurst come together. Well, now all that’s over, of 
course, but is it wrong for me to ask how it is you have 
com.e to dislike him?” 

“But I don’t dislike him, Mr. Wilson.” 

“ Well then, why do you go on as if you didn’t like 
him?” 

Isobel hesitated. From most men she would have 
considered the question impertinent, and would have 
resented it, but this frank-faced boy meant no imperti- 
nence ; he loved her in his honest way and only wanted 
to see her happy. 

“ I can’t speak to him if he doesn’t speak to me,” she 
said desperately. 

“No, of course not,” he agreed, “but why shouldn’t 
he speak to you? You can’t have done anything to of- 
fend him except taking up with Forster. ” 

“ It is nothing to do with Captain Forster at all, Mr. 
Wilson; I — ” and she hesitated, “I — said something 
at which he had the right to feel hurt and offended, 
and he has never given me any opportunity since of 
saying that I am sorry.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


259 


“ I am sure you would not have said anything that he 
should have been offended about, Miss Hannay; it is 
not your nature, and I would not believe it whoever 
told me, not even yourself; so he must be in fault, and 
^ of course I have nothing more to say about it.” 

“ He wasn’t in fault at all, Mr. Wilson. I can’t tell 
you what I said, but it was very wrong and thoughtless 
on my part, and I have been sorry for it ever since, and 
he has a perfect right to be hurt, and not to come near 
me, especially as—” and she hesitated— “ as I have 
acted badly since and he has no reason for supposing 
that I am sorry. And now you must not ask me any 
more about it; I don’t know why I have said as much 
to you as I have, only I know I can trust you, and I 
like you very much, though I could never like you in 
the sort of way you would want me to. I wish you 
didn’t like me like that.” 

^ “Oh, never mind me,” he said earnestly, “I am all 
right. Miss Hannay. I never expected anything, you 
know, so I am not disappointed, and it has been awfully 
good of you talking to me as you have, and not getting 
mad with me for interfering. But I can hear them 
coming down from the terrace, and I must be off. I 
am on duty there, you know, now. Bathurst has un- 
dertaken double Vvork in that hole. I didn’t like it, 
really, it seemed mean to be getting out of the work 
and letting him do it all, but he said that he liked 
work, and I really think he does. I am sure he is al- 
ways worrying himself because he can’t take his share 
in the firing on the roof, and when he is working he 
hasn’t time to think about it. When he told me that in 
future he would drive the tunnel our shift himself, he 
said, ‘That will enable you to take your place on the 
roof, Wilson, and you must remember you are firing 
for both of us, so don’t throw away a shot.’ It is 
awfully rough on him, isn’t it? Well, good-by, Miss 
Hannay,” and Wilson hurried off to the roof. 


26 o 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The next four days made a great alteration in the 
position of the defenders in the fortified house. 

The upper story was now riddled by balls, the para- 
pet round the terrace had been knocked away in several 
places, the gate was in splinters; but as the earth from 
the tunnel had been all emptied against the sand-bagS, 
it had grown to such a thickness that the defence was 
still good here. But in the wall, against which one of 
the new batteries had steadily directed its fire, there 
was a yawning gap, which was hourly increasing in 
size and would ere long be practicable for assault. 
Many-of the shots passing through this had struck the 
house itself. Some of these had penetrated, and the 
room in the line of fire could no longer be used. 

There had been several casualties. The young civil- 
ian, Herbert, had been killed by a shot that struck the 
parapet just where he was lying. Captain Rintoul had 
been seriously wounded, two of the natives had been 
killed by the first shot which penetrated the lower room. 
Mr. Hunter was prostrate with fever, the result of ex- 
posure to the sun, and several others had received 
wounds more or less severe from fragments of stone ; 
but the fire of the defenders was as steady as at first, 
and the loss of the natives working the guns was severe, 
and they no longer ventured to fire from the gardens 
and shrubberies round the walls. ^ 

Fatigue, watching, still more the heat on the terrace, 
was telling heavily upon the strength of the garrison. 
The ladies went about their work quietly and almost 
silently. The constant anxiety and the confinement in 
the darkened rooms was telling upon them too. Sev- 
eral of the children were ill, and when not employed 
in other things there were fresh sand-bags to be made 
by the women to take the place of those damaged by 
the enemy’s shot. 

When, of an evening, a portion of the defenders came 
off duty, there was more talk and conversation, as all 
endeavored to keep up a good face and assume a con- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


261 


fidence they were far from feeling. The Doctor was 
perhaps the most cheery of the party, and during the 
daytime he was always on the roof, and his rifle seldom 
cracked in vain. In the evening he attended to his 
patients, talked cheerily to the ladies and laughed and 
joked over the events of the day. 

None among the ladies showed greater calmness and 
courage than Mrs. Rintoul, and not a word was ever 
heard from the time the siege began of her ailments or 
inconveniences. She was Mrs. Hunter’s best assistant 
with the sick children. Even after her husband was 
wounded and her attention night and day was given to 
him, she still kept on patiently and firmly. 

“ I don’t know how to admire Mrs. Rintoul enough,” 
Mrs. Hunter said to Isobel Hannay, one day; “for- 
merly I had no patience with her, she was always queru- 
lous and grumbling ; now she has turned out a really 
noble woman. One never knows people, my dear, till 
one sees them in trouble. ” 

“Every one is nice,” Isobel said. “I have hardly 
heard a word of complaint about anything since we 
came here, and every one seems to help others and do 
little kindnesses.” 

The enemy’s fire had been very heavy all that da}^’^ 
and the breach in the wall had been widened and the 
garrison felt certain that the enemy would attack on 
the following morning. 

“You and Farquharson, Doctor, must stop on the 
roof,” the Major said. “In the first place, it is pos- 
sible thev may try to attack by ladders at some other 
point and we shall want two good shots up there to 
keep them back ; and in the second, if they do force the 
breach we shall want you to cover our retreat into the 
house I will get a dozen rifles apiece, loaded and in 
readiness. Isobel and Mary Hunter, who have both 
volunteered over and over again, shall go up to load 
they have both practised and can load quickly. Of 
course if you see that the enemy are not attacking at 
any other point you will help us at the breach by keep- 
ing up a steady fire on them, but always keep six guns 
each in reserve. I shall blow my whistle as a signal 


262 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


for US to retire to the house if I find we can hold the 
breach no longer, so when you hear that, blaze away 
at them as fast as you can. Your twelve shots will 
check them long enough to give us time to get in and 
fasten the door. We shall be round the corner of the 
house before they can get fairly over the breastwork. 
We will set to work to raise that as soon as it gets 
dark.” 

A breastwork of sand-bags had already been erected 
behind the breach, in case the enemy should make a 
sudden rush, and, a couple of hours’ labor transformed 
this into a strong work, for the bags were already filled 
and only needed placing in position. When completed 
it extended in a horse-shoe shape, some fifteen feet 
across, behind the gap in the wall. For nine feet from 
the ground it was composed of sand-bags, three deep, 
and a single line was then laid along the edge to serve 
as a parapet. 

“I don’t think they will get over that,” the Major 
said, when the work was finished. “ I doubt if they 
will be disposed even to try when they reach the 
breach.” 

Before beginning their work they had cleared away 
all the fallen brickwork from behind the breach and a 
number of bricks were laid on the top of the sand-bags 
to be used as missiles. 

“ A brick is as good as a musket -ball at this dis- 
tance,” the Major said, “ and when our guns are empty 
we can take to them ; there are enough spare rifles for 
us to have five each, and with those and our revolvers 
and the bricks, we ought to be able to account for an 
army. There are some of the servants and syces who 
can be trusted to load. They can stand down behind 
us and we can pass our guns down to them as we empty 
them.” 

Each man had his place on the work assigned to him. 
Bathurst, who had before told the Major that when the 
time came for an assault to be delivered he was deter- 
mined to take his place in the breach, was placed at 
one end of the horse-shoe where it touched the wall. 

“ I don’t promise to be of much use, Major,” he said 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 263 

quietly. “I know myself too well; but at least l ean 
run my chance of being killed.” 

The Major had put Wilson next to him. 

“ I don’t think there is much chance of their storming 
the work, Wilson; but if they do, you catch hold of 
Bathurst’s arm, and drag him away when you hear me 
whistle ; the chances are a hundred to one against his 
hearing it or remembering what it means if he does 
hear it. ” 

“ All right, Major, I will look to him. ” 

Four men rerhained on guard at the breach all night, 
and at the first gleam of daylight the garrison took up 
their posts. 

“Now mind, my dears,” the Doctor said, as he and 
Farquharson went up on the terrace with Isobel and 
Mary Hunter, “ you must do exactly as you are told, or 
you will be doing more harm than good, for Farquhar- 
son and I would not be able to pay attention to our 
shooting. You must lie down and remain perfectly 
quiet till we begin to fire, then keep behind us just so 
far that you can reach the guns as we hand them back 
to you after firing; and you must load them either 
kneeling or sitting down, so that you don’t expose your 
heads above the thickest part of the breastwork. When 
you have loaded, push the guns back well to the right 
of us, but so that we can reach them. Then, if one of 
them goes off, there won’t be any chance of our being 
hit. The garrison can’t afford to throw away a life at 
present. You will of course only half-cock them; still, 
it is as well to provide against accidents.” 

Both the girls were pale, but they were quiet and 
steady. The Doctor saw they were not likely to break 
down. 

“ That is a rum-looking weapon you have got there, 
Bathurst,” Wilson said, as, after carrying up the spare 
guns and placing them ready for firing, they lay down 
in their positions on the sand-bags. The weapon was 
a native one, and was a short mace, composed of a bar 
of iron about fifteen inches long, with a knob of the 
same metal, studded with spikes. The bar was covered 


264 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

with leather to break the jar, and had a loop to put the 
hand through at the end. 

“ Yes," Bathurst said quietly, “ I picked it up at one 
of the native shops in Cawnpore the last time I was 
there. I had no idea of ever having to use it at the 
time, and bought it rather as a curiosity ; but I have 
kept it within reach of my bedside since these troubles 
began, and I don’t think one could want a better 
weapon at close quarters. ’’ 

“No, it is a tremendous thing; and after the way I 
have seen you using that pick I should not like to be 
within reach of your arm with that mace in it. I don’t 
think there is much chance of your wanting that. I have 
no fear of the natives getting over here this time. " 

“ I have no fear of the natives at all," Bathurst said. 
“ I am only afraid of myself. At present I am just as 
cool as if there was not a native within a thousand 
miles, and I am sure that my pulse is not going a beat 
faster than usual. I can think of the whole thing and 
calculate the chances as calmly as if it were an affair 
in which I was in no way concerned. It is not danger 
that I fear in the slightest, it is that horrible noise. I 
know well enough that the moment the firing begins I 
shall be paralyzed. My only hope is that at the last 
moment, if it comes to hand-to-hand fighting, I shall 
get my nerve again. " 

“I have no doubt you will," Wilson said warml}^ 
“and when you do I would back you at long odds 
against any of us. Ah, they are beginning." 

As he spoke there was a salvo of all the guns on the 
three Sepoy batteries. Then a roar of musketry broke 
out round the house, and above it could be heard loud 
shouts. 

“They are coming. Major, "the Doctor shouted down 
from the roof, “ the Sepoys are leading, and there is a 
crowd of natives behind them." 

Those lying in the middle of the curve of the horse- 
shoe soon caught sight of the enemy advancing tumul- 
tuously toward the breach. The Major had ordered 
that not a shot was to be fired until they reached it, and 
it was evident that the silence of the besieged awed the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


265 


assailants with a sense of unknown danger, for their 
pace slackened, and when they got to within fifty yards 
of the breach they paused and opened fire. Then, urged 
forward by their officers and encouraged by their own 
noise, they again rushed forward. Two of their officers 
led the way, and as these mounted the little heap of 
rubbish at the foot of the breach, two rifles cracked out 
from the terrace, and both fell dead. 

There was a yell of fury from the Sepoys, and then 
they poured in through the breach. Those in front 
tried to stop as they saw the trap into which they were 
entering, but pressed on by those behind they were 
forced forward. 

And now a crackling fire of musketry broke out from 
the rifles projecting between the sand-bags, into the 
crowded mass. Every shot told. Wild shrieks, yells, 
and curses rose from the assailants. Some tried madly 
to climb up the sand-bags, some to force their way 
back through the crowd behind; some threw themselves 
down; others discharged their muskets at their invisi- 
ble foe. From the roof, the Doctor and his companion 
kept up a rapid fire upon the crowd struggling to enter 
the breach. As fast as the defenders’ muskets were 
discharged they handed them down to the servants be- 
hind to be reloaded, and when each had fired his spare 
muskets he betook himself to his revolver. 

Wilson while discharging his rifles kept his eyes upon 
Bathurst. The latter had not fired a shot, but lay rigid 
and still, save for a sort of convulsive shuddering. 
Presently there was a little lull in the firing^ as. the 
weapons were emptied and the defenders seizing the 
bricks hurled them down into the mass. 

“Look out!” the Major shouted, “keep your heads 
low, I am going to throw the canisters. ” 

A number of these had been prepared, filled to the 
mouth with powder and bullets and with a short fuse 
attached; ropes being fastened round them to enable 
them to be slung some distance. The Major half-rose 
to throw one of these missiles when his attention was 
called by a shout from Wilson. 

The latter was so occupied that he had not noticed 


266 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Bathurst, who had suddenly risen to his feet and, just 
as Wilson was about to grasp him and pull him down, 
leaped over the sand-bag in front of him down among 
the mutineers. The Major gave a swing to the canister, 
of which the fuse was already lighted, and hurled it 
through the breach among the crowd, who, ignorant of 
what was going on inside, were still struggling to enter. 

“Look out!” he shouted to the others; “mind how 
you throw. Bathurst is down in the middle of them; 
Hand up all the muskets you have loaded,” he cried to 
the servants. 

As he spoke he swung another canister through the 
breach, and almost immediately two heavy explosions 
followed one close upon the other. 

“Give them a volley at the breach,” he shouted; 
“ never mind those below. ” 

The muskets were fired as soon as received. 

“ Now to your feet,” the Major cried, “ and give them 
the brick-bats,” and as he stood up he hurled two more 
canisters among the crowd behind the breach. The 
others sprang up with a cheer. The enclosure below 
them was shallower now from the number that had 
fallen, and was filled with a confused mass of strug- 
gling men. In their midst was Bathurst fighting des- 
perately with his short weapon, and bringing down a 
man at every blow, the mutineers being too crowded 
together to use their fixed bayonets against him. In 
a moment Forster leaped down, sword in hand, and 
joined in the fight. 

“Stand steady,” the Major shouted; “don’t let an- 
other man move. ” 

But the missiles still rained down with an occasional 
shot, as the rifles were handed up by the natives, while 
the Doctor and Farquharson kept up an almost con- 
tinuous fire from the terrace. Then the two last 
canisters thrown by the Major exploded. The first 
two had carried havoc among the crowd behind the 
breach, these completed their confusion, and they 
turned and fled ; while those in the retrenchment, re- 
lieved of the pressure from behind, at once turned, and 
flying through the breach followed their companions. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


267 


A loud cheer broke from the garrison, and the Major 
looking round saw the Doctor standing by the parapet 
waving his hat, while Isobel stood beside him looking 
down at the scene of conflict 

“ Lie down, Isobel," he shouted, “they will be open- 
ing fire again directly. " 

The girl disappeared, and almost at the same mo- 
ment the batteries spoke out again, and a crackle of 
the musketry began from the gardens. The Major 
turned round. Bathurst was leaning against the wall 
breathing heavily after his exertions ; Forster was coolly 
wiping his sword on the tunic of one of the fallen 
Sepoys. 

“ Are either of you hurt?" he asked. 

“ I am not hurt to speak of," Forster said; “ I got a 
rip with a bayonet as I jumped down, but I don’t think 
it is of any consequence." 

“How are you, Bathurst?" the Major repeated. 
“What on earth possessed you to jump down like 
that?" 

“I don’t know. Major; I had to do something, and 
when you stopped firing I felt it was time for me to do 
ray share. ” 

“ You have done more than your share, I should say,” 
the Major said, “ for they went down like ninepins be- 
fore you. Now, Wilson, you take one of his hands and 
I will take the other, and help him up." 

It needed considerable exertion to get him up, for 
the reaction had now come, and he was scarce able to 
stand. 

“ You had better go up to the house and get a glass 
of wine," the Major said. “Now, is any one else 
hurt?" 

“I am hit. Major," Richards said quietly; “a ball 
came in between the sand-bags just as I fired my first 
shot, and smashed my right shoulder. I think I have ^ 
not been much good since, though I have been firing 
from my left as well as I could. I think I will go up 
and get the Doctor to look at it." 

But almost as he spoke the young fellow tottered, 
and would have fallen had not the Major caught him. 


268 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ Lend me a hand, Doolan,” the latter said; “ we will 
carry him in, I am afraid he is very hard hit. ” 

The ladies gathered round the Major and Captain 
Doolan as they entered with their burden. Mary 
Hunter had already run down and told them that the 
attack had been repulsed and the enemy had retreated. 

“Nobody else is hit,” the Major said as he entered, 
“at least not seriously. The enemy have been hand- 
somely beaten with such loss that they won’t be in a 
hurry to try again. Will one of you run up and bring 
the Doctor down?” 

Richards was carried in the hospital room, where he 
was left to the care of the Doctor, Mrs. Hunter, and 
Mrs. Rintoul. The Major returned to the general 
room. 

“ Boy, bring half a dozen bottles of champagne and 
open them as quickly as you can,” he said, “we have 
got enough to last us for weeks, and this is an occasion 
to celebrate, and I think we have all earned it. ” 

The others were by this time coming in, for there 
was no chance of renewing the attack at present. Far- 
quharson was on the roof on the look-out. Quiet 
greetings were exchanged between wives and husbands. 

“It didn’t last long,” Wilson said, “not above five 
minutes, I should say, from the time when we opened 
fire. ” 

“ It seemed to us an age, ” Amy Hunter said ; “ it was 
dreadful not to be able to see what was going on. It 
seemed to me every one must be killed with all that 
firing.” 

“It was sharp while it lasted,” the Major said, “but 
we were all snug enough except against a stray bullet 
such as that which hit poor young Richards. He be- 
haved very gallantly and none of us knew he was hit 
till it was all over.” 

“But how did Captain Forster get his bayonet 
wound?” Mrs. Doolan asked. “ I saw him go in just 
now into the surgery ; it seemed to me he had a very 
serious wound, for his jacket was cut from the breast 
up to the shoulder, and he was bleeding terribly, though 
he made light of it.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 269 

“lie jumped down into the middle of them," the 
Major said. “ Bathurst jumped down first, and was 
fighting like a madman with a mace he has got. We 
could do nothing, for we were afraid of hitting him, and 
Forster jumped down to help him, and as "he did so 
got that rip with the bayonet ; it is a nasty cut, no 
doubt, but it is only a flesh-wound." 

“Where is Mr. Bathurst?" Mrs. Doolan asked, “is he 
hurt too? Why did he jump down? I should not have 
thought " and she stopped. 

“ I fancy a sort of fury seized him," the Major said; 
“but whatever it was he fought like a giant. He is a 
powerful man, and that iron mace is just the thing for 
such work. The natives went down like ninepins be- 
fore him. No, I don’t think he is hurt." 

“I will go out and see," Mrs. Doolan said, and tak- 
ing a mug half -full of champagne from the table, she 
went out. 

Bathurst was sitting on the ground leaning against 
the wall of the house. 

“You are not hurt, Mr. Bathurst, I hope," Mrs. 
Doolan said, as she came up; “ No, don’t try to get up, 
drink a little of this ; we are celebrating our victory by 
opening a case of champagne. The Major tells us )^ou 
have been distinguishing yourself greatly. ’’ 

Bathurst drank some of the wine before he replied. 

“ In a way, Mrs. Doolan ; I scarcely know what I did 
do. I wanted to do something even if it was only to 
get killed." 

“You must not talk like that," she said kindly; 
“ Your life is as valuable as any here, and you know 
that we all like and esteem you, and, at any rate, you 
have shown to-day that you have plenty of courage.” 

“ The courage of a Malay running a-muck, Mrs. 
Doolan; that is not courage, it is madness. You can- 
not tell — no one can tell what I have suffered since the 
siege began. The humiliation of knowing that I alone 
of the men here am unable to take my part in the de- 
fence, and that while others are fighting I am useful 
only to work as a miner." 


270 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“ But you are as useful in that way as you would be 
in the other,” she said. “I don’t feel humiliated be- 
cause I can only help in nursing the sick while the 
others are fighting for us. We have all of us our gifts. 
Few men have more than you have. You have courage 
and coolness in other ways, and you are wrong to care 
nothing for your life because of the failing, for which 
you are not accountable, of your nerves to stand the 
effect of fire-arms. I can understand your feelings and 
sympathize with you, but it is of no use to exaggerate 
the importance of such a matter. You might live a 
thousand lives without being again in a position when 
such a failing would be of the slightest importance, 
one way or the other. Now come in with me. Cer- 
tainly this is not the moment for you to give way about 
it, for whatever your feelings may have been, or what- 
ever may have impelled you to the act, you have on 
this occasion fought nobly.” 

“Not nobly, Mrs. Doolan,” he said, rising to his 
feet, “ desperately, or madly if you like. ” 

At this moment Wilson came out. “ Hallo, Bathurst, 
what are you doing here? Breakfast is just ready, and 
every one is asking for you. I am sure you must want 
something after your exertions. You should have seen 
him laying about him with that iron mace, Mrs. Doolan. 
I have seen him using the pick, and knew how strong he 
was, but I was astonished, I can tell you. It was a 
sort of Coeur-de-Lion business. He used to use a mace, 
you know, and once rode through the Saracens and 
smashed them up, till at last, when he had done, he 
couldn’t open his hand. Bring him in, Mrs. Doolan. 
If he won’t come I will go in and send the Doctor out 
to him. Bad business poor Richards being hurt, isn’t 
it? Awfully good fellow, Richards. Can’t think why 
he was the one to be hit.” 

So keeping up a string of talk the young subaltern 
led Bathurst into the house. 

After breakfast a white flag was waved from the roof, 
and in a short time two Sepoy officers came up with a 
similar flag. The Major and Captain Doolan went out 
to meet them, and it was agreed that hostilities should 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


271 


be suspended until noon, in order that the wounded 
and dead might be carried off. 

While this was being done the garrison remained 
under arms behind their work at the breach lest any 
treacherous attempt should be made. The mutineers, 
however, who were evidently much depressed by the 
failure, carried the bodies off quietly, and at twelve 
o’clock firing recommenced. 

That evening, after it was dark, the men gathered 
on the terrace. 

“Well, gentlemen,” the Major said, “we have beaten 
them off to-day and we may do it again, but there is no 
doubt how it must all end. You see this afternoon 
their guns have all been firing at a fresh place in the 
wall, and if they make another breach or two and attack 
at them altogether, it will be hopeless to try to defend 

them. You see now that we have several sick and 
wounded, the notion of making our escape is almost 
knocked on the head. At the last moment each may 
try to save his life, but there must be no desertion of 
the posts and the sick as long as there is a cartridge to 
be fired. Our best hope is in getting assistance from 
somewhere, but we know nothing of what is going on 
elsewhere. I think the best plan will be for one of our 
number to try to make his way out and go either to 
Lucknow, Agra, or Allahabad,- and try and get help. If 
they could spare a troop of cavalry it might be suf- 
ficient ; the mutineers have suffered very heavily ; there 
were over a hundred and fifty bodies carried out to-day, 
and if attacked suddenly, I don’t think they would make 
any great resistance. We may hold out for a week or 
ten days, but I think that is the outside, and if rescue 
does not arrive by that time, we must either surrender 
or try to escape by that passage.” 

There was a general assent. 

“Bathurst would be the man to do it,” the Doctor 
said. “ Once through their lines he could pass without 
exciting the slightest suspicion ; he could buy a horse 

then, and could be at any of the stations in two days.” 

“Yes, there is no doubt that he is the man to do it,” 

the Major said; “where is he now?” 


272 IN THE BAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“At work as usual, Major; shall I go and speak to 
him? but I tell you fairly I don’t think he will under- 
take it. ” 

“ Why not, Doctor? It is a dangerous mission, but 
no more dangerous than remaining here.” 

“Well, we shall see,” the Doctor said, as he left the 
group. 

Nothing was said for a few minutes, the men sitting 
or lying about smoking. Presently the Doctor returned. 

“ Bathurst refuses, absolutely,” he said. “ He admits 
that he does not think there would be much difficulty 
for him to get through, but he is convinced that the 
mission would be a useless one, and that could help 
have been spared it would have come to us before now. ” 

“But in that case he would have made his escape,” 
the Major said. 

“ That is just why he won’t go. Major. He says that 
come what will he will share the fate of the rest, and 
that he will not live to be pointed to as the one man 
who made his escape of the garrison of Deennugghur. ” 

“Who can we send?” the Major said. “You are the 
only other man who speaks the language well enough 
to pass as a native. Doctor.” 

“ I speak it fairly, but not well enough for that ; be- 
sides I am too old to bear the fatigue of riding night 
and day, and moreover m)^ services are wanted here 
both as a doctor and as a rifle-shot. ” 

“I will go, if you will send me. Major,” Captain 
Forster said suddenly ; “not in disguise but in uniform, 
and on my horde’s back. Of course, I should run the 
gantlet of their sentries. Once through I doubt if 
they have a horse that could overtake mine.” 

There was a general silence of surprise. Forster’s 
reckless courage was notorious, and he had been con- 
spicuous for the manner in which he had chosen the 
most dangerous points during the siege, and this offer 
to undertake what, although a dangerous enterprise in 
itself, still offered a far better chance of life than that 
of remaining behind, surprised everyone. It had been 
noticed that since the rejection of his plan to sally out in 
a body and cut their way through the enemy he had been 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


273 


moody and silent, except only when the fire was heavy 
and the danger considerable, then he laughed and joked 
and seemed absolutely to enjoy the excitement; but he 
was the last man whom any of them would have expected 
to volunteer for a service that, dangerous as it might 
be, had just been refused by Bathurst on the ground 
that it offered a chance of escape from the common 
lot. 

The Major was the first to speak. 

“ Well, Captain Forster, as we have just agreed that 
our only chance is to obtain aid from one of the stations, 
and as you are the only volunteer for the service, I do 
not see that I can decline to accept your offer. At 
which station do you think you would be most likely 
to find a force that could help us?” 

” I should say Lucknow, Major. If help is to be ob- 
tained anywhere I should say it was there.” 

“Yes, I think that is the most hopeful. You will 
start at once, I suppose, the sooner the better.” 

“As soon as they are fairly asleep: say twelve 
o’clock.” 

“ Very well. I will go and write a dispatch for you 
to carry, giving an account of the fix we are in here. 
How will you sally out?” 

“ I should think the easiest plan would be to make a 
gap in the sand-bags in the breach, lead the horse till 
fairly outside, and then mount. ” 

“ I think you had better take a spare horse with you,” 
the Doctor said ; “ it will make a diff^ence if you are 
chased if you can change from one to rae other. Bath- 
urst told me to say whoever went could have his horse, 
which is a long way the best in the station, I should 
fancy as good as your own. ” 

“I don’t know,” Forster said; “led horses are a 
nuisance— still, as you say, it might come in useful, if 
it is only to loose and turn down a side road and so 
puzzle any one who may be after you in the dark.” 

The Major and Forster left the roof together. 

“Well, that is a rum go,” Wilson said. “If it had 
been any one but Forster, I should have said that he 
funked and was taking the opportunity to get out of it, 
18 


274 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


but every one knows that he has any amount of pluck ; 
look how he charged those Sepoys single-handed. ” 

“There are two sorts of pluck, Wilson,” the Doctor 
said dryly. “ There is the pluck that will carry a man 
through a desperate action and lead him to do deeds 
that are the talk of an army. Forster possessed that 
kind of pluck in an unusual degree. He is almost an 
ideal cavalryman, dashing, reckless, riding with a smile 
on his lips into the thickest of the fray, absolutely care- 
less of life when his blood is up. 

“ There is another sort of courage, that which sup- 
ports men under long-continued strain, and enables 
them, patiently and steadfastly, to face death when 
they see it approaching step by step. I doubt whether 
Forster possesses that passive sort of courage. He 
would ride up to a cannon’s mouth, but would grow im- 
patient in a square of infantry condemned to remain 
inactive under a heavy artillery fire. 

“No one has changed more since this siege began 
than he has. Except when engaged under a heavy 
fire, he has been either silent, or impatient and short- 
tempered, shirking conversation even with women, 
when his turn of duty was over. Mind, I don’t say for 
a moment that I suspect him of being afraid of death ; 
when the end came he would fight as bravely as ever, 
and no one could fight more bravely. But he cannot 
stand the waiting ; he is always pulling his mustache 
moodil)^ and muttering'to himself ; he is good to do but 
not to suffer; he^ould make a shockingly bad patient 
in a long illness.^ 

“ Well, if any of you have letters you want to write 
to friends in England, I should advise you to take the 
opportunity; mind, I don’t think they will ever get 
them. Forster may get through but I consider the 
chances strongly against it. For a ride of ten miles 
through a country swarming with foes I could choose 
no messenger I would rather trust, but for a ride like 
this that requires patience and caution and resource he 
is not the man I should select. Bathurst would have 
succeeded almost certainly if he had once got out. 
The two men are as different as light to dark, one pos- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


275 


sesses just the points the other fails in. I have no one 
at home I want to write to, so I will undertake the 
watch here. ” 


>^CHAPTER XVIL 

The men, on descending from the roof, found all the 
ladies engaged in writing, the Major having told them 
that there was a chance of their letters being taken out. 
Scarce one looked up as they entered; their thoughts 
at the moment were at home with those to whom they 
were writing what might well be their last farewells. 
Stifled sobs were heard in the quiet room ; mournful 
letters were blurred with tears even from eyes that had 
not been dimmed before since the siege began. 

Isobel Hannay was the first to finish, for her letter to 
her mother was but a short one. As she closed it she 
looked up. Captain Forster was standing at the other 
side of the table with his eyes fixed on her, and he 
made a slight gesture to her that he wished to speak to 
her. She hesitated a moment, and then rose and 
quietly left the room. A moment later, he joined her 
outside. 

“ Come out,” he said, “ I must speak to you,” and to- 
gether they went out through the passage into the 
court-yard. 

“ Isobel,” he began, “ I need not tell you that I love 
you ; till lately I have not known how much, but I feel 
now that I could not live without you. ” 

“Why are you going away then, Captain Forster?” 
she asked quietly. 

“I don’t want to go alone,” he said, “I cannot go 
alone, I want you to go with me. Your uncle would 
surely consent, it is the only chance of saving your life. 
We all know that it is next to hopeless that they should 
be able to spare a force sufficient to rescue all ; there 
is just a chance, but that is all that can be said. We 
could be married at Allahabad. I would make for 
there instead of Lucknow if you will go with me, and 
I could leave you there in safety till these troubles are 


276 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

over ; I am going to take another horse as well as my 
own, and two would be as likely to escape as one. ” 

“Thank you for the offer, Captain Forster,” she said 
coldly, “ but I decline it. My place is here, with my 
uncle and the others.” 

“Why is it?” he asked passionately. “If you love 
me, your place is surely with me, and you do love me, 
Isobel, do you not? Surely I have not been mistaken. ” 

Isobel was silent for a moment. 

“You were mistaken. Captain Forster,” she said,, 
after a pause. “ You paid me attentions as I had heard 
5’ou paid to many others, and it was pleasant. That 
you were serious I did not think. I believed you were 
simply flirting with me; that you meant no more by it 
than you had meant before; and being forearmed and 
therefore having no fear that I should hurt myself 
more than you would, I entered into it in the same 
spirit. Where there was so much to be anxious about 
it was a pleasure and a relief. Had I met you elsewhere 
and under different circumstances I think I should 
have come to love you. A girl almost without experi- 
ence and new to the world, as I am, could hardly have 
helped doing so, I think. Had I thought you had been 
in earnest, I should have acted differently; and if I 
have deceived you by my manner, I am sorry ; but even 
had I loved you, I would not have consented to do the 
thing you ask me. You are going on duty. You are 
going in the hope of obtaining aid for us. I should be 
simply escaping while others stay. I should despise 
myself. Besides, I do not think that even in that case 
my uncle would have consented to my going off with 
you.” 

“ I am sure that he would,” Forster broke in. “ He 
would never be mad enough to retuse you the chance 
of escape from such a fate as may now await you.” 

“We need not discuss the question,” she said. 
“ Even if I loved you, I would not go with you, and I 
do not love you. ” 

“They have prejudiced you against me,” he said 
angrily. 

“ They warned me and they were right in doing so. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 277 

Ask yourself if they were not. Would you see a sister 
of yours running the risk of breaking her heart without 
warning her? Do not be angry,” she went on, putting 
her hand on his arm. “We have been good friends. 
Captain Forster, and I like you very much. We may 
never meet again, it is most likely we never shall do 
so. I am grateful to 5^011 for the many pleasant hours 
you have given me. Let us part thus.” 

“ Can you not give some hope that in the distance, 
when these troubles are over, should we both be spared, 
you may ” 

“ No, Captain Forster, I am sure it could never be so; 
if we ever meet again we will meet as we part now — as 
friends. And now I can stay no longer; they will be 
missing me,” and turning, she entered the house before 
he could speak again. 

It was some minutes before he followed her. He 
had not really thought that she would go with him ; 
perhaps he had hardly wished it, for on such an ex- 
pedition a woman would necessarily add to the difficulty 
and danger; but he had thought that she would have 
told him that his love was returned, and for perhaps 
the first time in his life he was serious in his protesta- 
tion of it. 

“What does it matter,” he said at last, as he turned; 
“ ’tis ten thousand to one against our meeting again ; if 
we do, I can take it up where it breaks off now. She 
half acknowledged that she would have liked me if she 
had been sure that I were in earnest. Next time I 
shall be in earnest. She was right. I was but amus- 
ing myself wdth her at first, and had no more thought 
of marrying her than I had of flying. But there, it is 
no use talking about the future, the thing now is to get 
out of this trap. I have felt like a rat in a cage with a 
terrier watching me for the last month, and long to be 
on horseback again, with the chance of making a fight 
for my life. What a fool Bathurst was to throw away 
the chance!” 

Bathurst, his work done, had looked into the hall 
vffiere the others were gathered, and hearing that the 
Doctor was alone on watch, had gone up to him, 


278 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“I was just thinking, Bathurst,” the Doctor said, as 
he joined him, “ about that fight to-day. It seems to 
me that whatever comes of this business, you and I are 
not likely to be among those who go down when the 
place is taken.” 

“ How is that. Doctor? Why is our chance better 
than the rest? I have no hope, myself, that any will 
be spared. ” 

“ I put my faith in the juggler, Bathurst. Has it not 
struck you that the first picture you saw has come true?” 

“ I have never given it a thought for weeks,” Bathurst 
said; “ certainly I have not thought of it to-day. Yes, 
now you speak of it, it has come true. How strange ! 
I put it aside as a clever trick — one that I could not 
understand any more than I did the others, but, know- 
ing myself, it seemed beyond the bounds of possibility 
that it could come true. Anything but that I would 
have believed, but, as I told you, whatever might hap- 
pen in the future, I should not be found fighting des- 
perately as I saw myself doing there. It is true that 
I did so, but it was only a sort of a frenzy. I did not 
fire a shot, as Wilson may have told you. I strove like 
a man in a nightmare to break the spell that seemed to 
render me powerless to move, but when, for a moment, 
the firing ceased, a weight seemed to fall off me and I 
was seized with a sort of passion to kill. I have no 
distinct remembrance of anything until it was all over. 
It was still the nightmare, but one of a different kind, 
and I was no more myself then than I was when I was 
lying helpless on the sand-bags. Still, as you say, the 
picture was complete; at least, if Miss Hannay was 
standing up here.” 

“ Yes, she rose to her feet in the excitement of the 
fight. I believe we all did so. The picture was true 
in all its details, as you described it to me. And, that 
being so, I believe that other picture, the one we saw 
together, you and I and Isobel Hannay in native dis- 
guises, will also come true.” 

Bathurst was silent for two or three minutes. 

It may be so. Doctor — Heaven only knows. I trust 
for your sake and hers it may be so, though I care but 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


279 


little about myself; but that picture wasn’t a final one, 
and we don’t know what may follow it.” 

“ That is so, Bathurst. But I think that you and I, 
once fairly away in disguise, might be trusted to make 
our way down the country. You see, we have a com- 
plete confirmation of that juggler’s powers. He showed 
me a scene in the past — a scene which had not been in 
my mind for years — and was certainly not in my 
thoughts at the time. He showed you a scene in the 
future which, unlikely as it appeared, has actually 
taken place. I believe he will be equally right in this 
other picture. You have heard that Forster is going?” 

“Yes, Wilson came down and told me while I was at 
work. Wilson seemed rather disgusted at his volun- 
teering. I don’t know that I am surprised myself, for, 
as I told you, I knew him at school, and he had no 
moral courage, though plenty of physical ; though un- 
der the circumstances I should not have thought he 
would have gone.” 

“You mean because of Miss Hannay, Bathurst?” 

“Yes, that is what I mean.” 

“ That sort of thing might weigh with you or me, 
Bathurst, but not with him. He has loved and ridden 
away many times before this, but in this case, fortu- 
nately, I don’t think he will leave an aching heart be- 
hind him.” 

“You don’t mean to say. Doctor, that you don’t think 
she cares for him?” 

“ I have not asked her the question,” the Doctor said 
dryly. “ I dare say she likes him, in fact I am ready to 
admit that there has been what you may call a strong 
case of flirtation, but when a young woman is thrown 
with an uncommonly good-looking man, who lays him- 
self out to be agreeable to her, my experience is that a 
flirtation generally comes of it, especially when the 
young woman has no one else to make herself agreeable 
to, and is, moreover, a little sore with the world in 
general. I own that at one time I was rather inclined 
to think that out of sheer perverseness the girl was go- 
ing to make a fool of herself with that good-looking 
scamp, but since we have been shut up here I have felt 


28 o 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


easy in my mind about it. And now, if you will take 
my rifle for ten minutes, I will go down and get a cup 
of tea; I volunteered to take sen try- work but I didn’t 
bargain for keeping it all night without relief. By the 
V\^ay, I told Forster of your offer of your horse, and I 
think he is going to take it, ” 

“He is welcome to it,” Bathurst said carelessly, “it 
will be of no use to me.” 

“Now look here,” the Doctor said shortly. “Just 
put Miss Hannay out of your head for the present, and 
attend to the business on hand. I do not think there 
is much chance of their trying it on again to-night, but 
they may do so, so please to keep a sharp lookout 
while I am below.” 

“I will be careful. Doctor,” Bathurst said, with a 
laugh; but the Doctor had so little faith in his watch- 
fulness that so soon as he went below he sent up Wilson 
to share his watch. 

At twelve o’clock the sand-bags were removed suf- 
ficiently to allow a horse to pass through, and Forster’s 
and Bathurst’s animals were led out through the breach, 
their feet having been muffled with blankets to prevent 
their striking a stone, and arousing the attention of 
the enemy’s sentinels. Once fairly out, the mufflings 
were removed, and Forster sprang into his saddle. 

“Good-by, Major,” he said; “I hope I maybe back 
again in eight or nine days with a squadron of cavalry.” 

“ Good-by, Forster, I hope it may be so. May God 
protect you.” 

The breach in the defences was closed the instant the 
horses passed through, and the others stood in the 
breach of the wall listening as Forster rode off. He 
went at a walk, but before he had gone fifty paces 
there was a sharp challenge, followed almost instantly 
by a rifle-shot, then came the crack of a revolver and 
the rapid beat of galloping hoofs. Loud shouts were 
heard and musket-shots fired in rapid succession. 

“They are not likely to have hit him in the dark,” 
the Major said, as he climbed back over the sand-bags, 
“ but they may hit his horses, which would be just as 
fatal.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


281 


Leaving two sentries— the one just outside the breach 
near the wall, the other on the sand-bags— the rest of 
the party hurried up on the roof. Shots were still be- 
ing fired, and there was a confused sound of shouting; 
then a cavalry trumpet rang out sharply, and presently 
three shots fired in quick succession came upon the 
air. 

“That is the signal agreed on,” the Major said; “he 
is safely beyond their lines. Now it is a question of 
riding ; some of the cavalry will be in pursuit of him 
before many minutes are over.” 

Forster’s adieu had been brief. He had busied him- 
self up to the last moment in looking to the saddling of 
the two horses, and had only gone into the house and 
said good-by to the ladies just when it was time to start. 
He had said a few hopeful words as to the success of 
the mission, but had evidently needed an effort to do 
so. He had no opportunity of speaking a word apart 
with Isobel, and he shook her hand silently when it 
came to her turn. 

“ I should not have given him credit for so much 
feeling,” Mrs. Doolan whispered to Isobel, as he went 
out; “he was really sorry to leave us, and I didn’t 
think he was a man to be sorry for anything that didn’t 
affect himself. I think he had absolutely the grace to 
feel a little ashamed of leaving us.” 

“I don’t think that is fair,” Isobel said warmly, 
“ when he is going down to fetch assistance for us. ” 

“He is deserting us,' as rats desert a sinking ship,” 
Mrs. Doolan said, positively, “ and I am only surprised 
that he has the grace to feel a little ashamed of the 
action. As for caring: there is only one person in the 
world he cares for — himself. I was reading ‘David 
Copperfield’ just before we came in here, and Steerforth’s 
character might have been sketched from Forster. He 
is a man without either heart or conscience ; a man who 
would sacrifice everything to his own pleasures, and 
yet even when one knows him to be what he is one can 
hardly help liking him. I wonder how it is, my dear, 
that scamps are generally much more pleasant than 
good men?” 


282 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ I never thought about it, Mrs. Doolan,” Isobel said, 
roused to a smile by the earnestness with which Mrs. 
Doolan propounded the problem, “and can give no 
reason except that we are attracted by natures the re- 
verse of our own.” 

Mrs. Doolan laughed. 

“ So you think we are better than men, Isobel? I 
don’t — not one bit. We are cramped in our opportuni- 
ties, but given equal opportunities and I don’t think 
there is anything to choose between us. But we 
mustn’t stay talking here any longer; we both go on 
duty in the sick ward at four o’clock.” 

The enemy’s batteries opened on the following 
morning more violently than before. More guns had 
been placed in position during the night, and a rain of 
missiles was poured upon the house. For the next six 
days the position of the besieged became hourly worse. 
Several .breaches had been made in the wall, and the 
shots now struck the house, and the inmates passed 
the greater part of their time in the basement. 

The heat was terrible, and as the firing was kept up 
night and day, sleep was almost impossible. The 
number of the besiegers had considerably increased, 
large numbers of the country people taking part in the 
siege, while a regiment of Sepoys from Cawnpore had 
taken the place of the detachment of the 103d Bengal 
Infantry, of whom, indeed, but few now remained. 

The garrison no longer held the court-yard. Several 
times masses of the enemy had surged up and poured 
through the breaches, but a large number of hand 
grenades of various sizes had been constructed by the 
defenders, and the effects of these thrown down from 
the roof among the crowded masses were so terrible 
that the natives each time fell back. The horses had 
all been turned out through the breach on the day after 
Captain Forster’s departure, in order to save their 
lives. A plague of flies was not the least of the de- 
fenders’ troubles. After the repulse of the assaults the 
defenders at night went out and carried the bodies of 
the natives, who had fallen in the court-yard, beyond 
the wall, but the odor of blood attracted such countless 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 283 

swarms of flies that the ground was black with them, 
and they pervaded the house in legions. 

The number of the defenders decreased daily. Six 
only were able now to carry arms. Mr. Hunter, Cap- 
tain Rintoul, and Richards had died of fever. Far- 
quharson had been killed by a cannon-ball ; two civil- 
ians had been badly wounded; several of the children 
had succumbed; Amy Hunter had been killed by a 
shell that passed through the sand-bag protection of 
the grating that gave light to the room in the base- 
ment used as a sick ward. The other ladies were all 
utterly worn out with exhaustion, sleeplessness and anx- 
iety. Still there had been no word spoken of sur- 
render. Had the men been alone they would have 
sallied out and died fighting, but this would have left 
the ^vomen at the mercy of the assailants. 

The work at the gallery had been discontinued for 
some time; it had been carried upward until a number 
of roots in the earth showed that they were near the 
surface, and, as they believed, under a clump of bushes 
growing a hundred and fifty yards beyond the walls ; 
but of late there had been no talk of using this. Flight, 
which even at first had seemed almost hopeless, was 
wholly beyond them in their present weakened condi- 
tion. 

On the last of these six days, Major Hannay was 
severely wounded. At night, the enemy’s fire relaxed 
a little, and the ladies took advantage of it to go up on 
to the terrace for air, while the men gathered for a 
council round the Major’s bed. 

“ Well, Doctor, the end is pretty near,” he said; “it 
is clear we cannot hold out many hours longer. We 
must look the matter in the face now. We have 
agreed all along, that when we could no longer resist 
we would offer to surrender on the terms that our lives 
should be spared, and that we should be given safe con- 
duct down the country, and that if those terms were re- 
fused, we were to resist to the end and then blow up 
the house and all in it. I think the time has come for 
raising the white flag.” 

“ I think so,” the Doctor said; “we have done every- 


284 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


thing men could do. I have little hope that they will 
grant us terms of surrender; for from the native ser- 
vants who have deserted us they must have a fair idea 
of our condition. What do you think, Bathurst?” 

“ I think it probable there are divisions among them,” 
he replied; “the Talookdars may have risen against 
us, but I do not think they can have the same deadly 
enmity the Sepoys have shown. They must be heartily 
sick of this prolonged siege, and they have lost large 
numbers of their men. I should say they would be 
willing enough to give terms, but probably they are over- 
ruled by the Sepoys, and perhaps by orders from Nana 
Sahib. I know several of them personally, and I think I 
could influence For Sing, who is certainly the most pow- 
erful of the Zemindars of this neighborhood, and is prob- 
ably looked upon as their natural leader ; if you approve 
of it. Major, I will go out in disguise and endeavor to ob- 
tain an interview with him. He is an honorable man, 
and if he will give his guarantee for our safety, I would 
trust in him. At any rate, I can but try. If I do not 
return you will know that no terms can be obtained 
and can then decide when to end it all.” 

“It is worth the attempt anyhow,” the Major said. 
“ I say nothing about the danger you will run ; for no 
danger can be greater than that which hangs over us 
all now.” 

“Very well. Major, then I will do it at once, but you 
must not expect me back until to-morrow night. I can 
hardly hope to obtain an interview with For Sing to- 
night.” 

“ How will you go out, Bathurst?” 

“ I will go down at once and break in the roof of the 
gallery,” he said ; “we know they are close round the 
wall, and I could not hope to get out through any of the 
breaches. ” 

“ I suppose you are quite convinced that there is no 
hope of relief from Lucknow.” 

“ Quite convinced. I never had any real hope from 
it, but had there been a force disposable it would have 
started at once if Forster arrived there with his mes- 
sage, and might have been here by this time,” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


285 


“At any rate we can wait no longer.” 

“Then we will begin at once,” Bathurst said, and 
taking a crowbar and pick from the place where the 
tools were kept, he lighted the lamp and went along 
the gallery, accompanied by the Doctor, who carried 
two light bamboo ladders. ^ 

“ Do you think you will succeed, Bathurst?” 

“ I am pretty sure of it, ” he said confidently. “ I be- 
lieve I have a friend there.” 

“A friend!” the Doctor repeated in surprise. 

“Yes. I am ^convinced that the juggler is there. 
Not once, but half a dozen times during the last two 
nights, when I have been on watch on the terrace, I 
have distinctly heard the words whispered in my ear, 
‘Meet me at your bungalow.’ You may think I dozed 
off and was dreaming, but I was as wide awake then as 
I am now. I cannot say that I recognized the voice, 
but the words were in the dialect he speaks. At any 
rate, as soon as I am out I shall make my way there, 
and shall wait there all night on the chance of his com- 
ing. After what we know of the man’s strange powers 
there seems nothing unreasonable to me in his being 
able to impress upon my mind the fact that he wants to 
see me.” 

“ I quite agree with you there, and his aid might be 
invaluable. You are not the sort of man to have delu- 
sions, Bathurst, and I quite believe what you say. I 
feel more hopeful now than I have done for some time. ” 

An hour’s hard work and a hole was made through 
the soil, which was but three feet thick. Bathurst 
climbed up the ladder and looked out. 

“ It is as we thought. Doctor, we are in the middle of 
that thicket. Now I will go and dress if you will keep 
guard here with your rifle.” 

At the end of the gallery a figure was standing ; it 
was Isobel Hannay. 

“ I have heard you are going out again, Mr. Bath- 
urst. ” 

“ Yes, I am going to see what I can do in the way of 
making terms for us. ” 

“ You may not come back again,” she said nervously. 


286 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ That is, of course, possible. Miss Hannay, but I do 
not think the risk is greater than those run who stay 
here. ” 

“ I want to speak to you before you go, ” she said. “ I 
have wanted to speak so long, but you have never given 
me an* opportunity. We may not meet again, now, and 
I must tell you how sorry I am, how sorry I have been 
ever since for what I said. I spoke as a foolish girl, 
but I know better now. Have I not seen how calm you 
have been through all our troubles, how you devoted 
yourself to us and the children, how you have kept up 
all our spirits, how cheerfully you have worked, and as 
our trouble increased we have all come to look up to 
you and lean upon you. Do say, Mr. Bathurst, that 
you forgive me, and that if you return we can be friends 
as we were before.” 

“ Certainly I forgive you if there is anything to for- 
give, Miss Hannay,” he said gravely. “Nothing that 
you or any one can say can relieve me of the pain of 
knowing that I have been unable to take any active 
part in your defence, that I have been forced to play the 
part of a woman rather than a man ; but assuredly, if 
I return, I shall be glad to be again your friend, which, 
indeed, I have never ceased to be at heart.” 

Perhaps she expected something more, but it did not 
come. He spoke cordially, but yet as one who felt that 
there was an impassable barrier between them. She 
stood irresolute for a moment, and then held out her 
hand. 

“ Good-by then,” she said. 

He held it a moment. “Good-by, Miss Hannay. 
May God keep you and guard )’’ou.” Then gently he 
led her to the door, and they passed out together. A 
quarter of an hour later he rejoined the Doctor, having 
brought with him a few short lengths of bamboo. 

“ I will put these across the hole when I get out,” he 
said; “lay some sods over them and cover them up 
with leaves, in case any one should enter the bushes to- 
morrow. It is not likely, but it is as well to take the 
precaution. One of you had better stay on guard until 
I come back. It would not do to trust any of the na- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 287 

tives; those that remain are all utterly disheartened 
and broken down, and might take the opportunity of 
purchasing their lives by going out and informing the 
enemy of the opening into the gallery. They must al- 
ready know of its existence from the men who have 
deserted. But, fortunately, I don’t think any of them 
are aware of its exact direction ; if they had been, we 
should have had them countermining before this.” 

Having carefully closed up the opening, Bathurst 
went to the edge of the bushes and listened. He could 
hear voices between him and the house, but all was 
quiet near at hand, and he began to move noiselessly 
along through the garden. He had no great fear of 
meeting with an)’- one here. The natives had formed 
a cordon round the wall and behind that there would 
be no one on watch, and as the batteries were silent 
all were doubtless asleep there. In ten minutes he 
stood before the charred stumps that marked the site 
of his bungalow. As he did so, a figure advanced to 
meet him. 

“ It is )’'ou. Sahib. I was expecting you. I knew 
that you would come this evening.” 

“ I don’t know how you knew it, but I am heartily 
glad to see you. ” 

“ You want to see For Sing? Come along with me 
and I will take you to him ; but there is no time to lose, ” 
and without another word he walked rapidly away, fol- 
lowed by Bathurst. 

When they got into the open, the latter could see’ 
that his companion was dressed in an altogether dif- 
ferent garb to that in which he had before seen him, 
being attired as a person of some station and importance. 
He stopped presently for Bathurst to come up with him. 

“ I have done what I could to prepare the way for 
you, ” he said. “ Openly, I could for certain reasons do 
nothing, but I have said enough to make him feel un- 
comfortable about the future, and to render him anxious 
to find a way of escape for himself if your people should 
ever again get the mastery.” 

“How are things going, Rujub? We have heard 
nothing for three weeks. How is it at Cawnpore?” 


288 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ Cawnpore has been taken by the Nana. They sur- 
rendered on his solemn oath that all should be allowed 
to depart in safety. He broke his oath, and there are 
not ten of its defenders alive. The women are all in 
captivity.” 

Bathurst groaned. He had hardly hoped that the 
handful of defenders could have maintained themselves 
against such overpowering numbers, but the certainty ■ 
as to their fate was a heavy blow. 

“ And Lucknow?” he asked. 

“ The Residency holds out at present, but men say 
that it must soon fall. ” 

“And what do you say?” 

“I say nothing,” the man said; “we cannot use our 
art in matters which concern ourselves. ” 

“And Delhi?” 

“ There is a little force of whites in front of Delhi ; 
there are tens of thousands of Sepoys in the town, but 
as yet the whites have maintained themselves. The 
chiefs of the Punjaub have proved faithless to their 
countr)?-, and there the British rule is maintained.” 

“ Thank^od for that ! ” Bathurst exclaimed, “ as long 
as the Punjaub holds out the tables may be turned. 
And the other Presidencies?” 

“ Nothing as yet,” Rujub said, in a tone of discontent. 

“ Then you are against us, Rujub. ” 

The man stopped. 

“ Sahib, I know not what I wish now. I have been 
brought up to hate the whites. Two of my father’s 
brothers were hung as Thugs, and my father taught rue 
to hate the men who did it. For years I have worked 
quietl)^ as have most of those of my craft, against you. 
We have reason to hate you. In the old times, we 
were honored in the land — honored and feared; for 
even the great ones knew that we had powers such as 
no other men have. But the whites treat us as if we 
were mere buffoons, who play for their amusement ; they 
make no distinction between the wandering conjurer 
with his tricks of dexterity, and the masters, who have 
powers that have been handed down from father to son 
for thousands of years, who can communicate with each 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 289 

Other though separated by the length of India, who 
can, as you have seen, make men invisible; who can 
read the past and the future. They see these things, 
and though they cannot* explain them, they persist in 
treating us all as if we were mere jugglers. 

“ They prefer to deny the evidences of their own 
senses rather than admit that we have powers such as 
they have not ; and so, even in the eyes of their own 
countrymen, we have lost' our old standing and posi- 
tion ; while the whites would bribe us v/ith money to 
divulge the secrets in which they profess to disbelieve. 
No wonder that we hate you and that we long for the 
return of the old days, when even princes were glad to 
ask favors at our hands. It is seldorft that we show 
our powers now. Those who aid us, and whose servants 
we are, are not to be insulted by the powers they be- 
stow upo'nus being used for the amusement of men who 
believe in nothing. 

“ The Europeans who first came to India have left 
records of the strange things they saw at the courts of 
the native princes. But such things are no longer 
done for the amusement of our white masters. Thus 
then for years I have worked against you, and just as I 
saw that our work was successful, just as all was pre- 
pared for the blow that was to sweep the white men out 
of India, you saved my daughter; then my work seemed 
to come to an end. Would any of my countrymen 
armed only with a whip have thrown themselves in the 
way of a tiger to save a woman — a stranger — one alto- 
gether beneath him in rank — one as it were dust be- 
neath his feet? That I should be ready to give my life 
for yours was a matter of course ; I should have been an 
ungrateful wretch otherwise. But this was not enough. 
At one blow the work I had devoted myself to for years 
was brought to nothing. Everything seemed to me new, 
and as I sat by my daughter’s bedside, when she lay 
sick with the fever, I had to think it all out again then. 
I saw things in another light. I saw that though the 
white men were masterful and often hard, though they 
had little regard for our customs, and viewed our be- 
liefs as superstitious, and scoffed at the notion of there 

19 


290 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


being powers of which they had no knowledge, yet that 
they were a great people. Other conquerors, many of 
them, India has had, but none who have made it their 
first object to care for the welfare of the people at large. 
The Feringhees have wrung nothing from the poor to 
be spent in pomp and display ; they permit no tyranny 
or ill-doing ; under them the poorest peasant tills his 
fields in peace. 

“ I have been obliged to see all this, and I feel now 
that their destruction would be a frightful misfortune. 
We should be ruled by our native lords, but as soon as 
the white man was gone the old quarrels would break 
out and the country would be red with blood. I did 
not see this before, because I had only looked at it with 
the eyes of my own caste ; now I see it with the eyes of 
one whose daughter has been saved from a tiger by a 
white man. I cannot love those I have been taught to 
hate, but I can see the benefit their rule has given to 
India. 

“ But what can I do now? I am in the stream and I 
must go with it. I know not what I wish or what I 
would do. Six months ago I felt certain. Now I doubt. 
It seemed to me that in a day the English Raj would 
be swept away. How could it be otherwise when the 
whole army that had conquered India for them were 
against them? I knew they were brave, but we have 
never lacked bravery. How could I tell that they 
would fight one against a hundred? 

“ But come, let us go on. For Sing is expecting you. 
I told him that I knew that one from the garrison would 
come out to treat with him privately to-night, and he 
is expecting you, though he does not know who may 
come. ” 

Ten minutes’ walking and they approached a large 
tent surrounded by several smaller ones. A sentry 
challenged when they approached, but on Rujub giv- 
ing his name, he at once resumed his walk up and down, 
and Rujub, followed by Bathurst, advanced and entered 
the tent. The Zemindar was seated on a divan, smok- 
ing a hooka. Rujub bowed, but not with the deep 
reverence of one approaching his superior. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


291 


“ He is here,” he said. 

“ Then you were not mistaken, Rujub.” 

“ How could I be when I knew?” Rujub said. “ I 
have done what I said, and have brought him straight 
to you. That was all I had to do with it; the rest is 
for your Highness. ” 

“I would rather that you should be present,” For 
Sing said, as Rujub turned to withdraw. 

“ No,” the latter replied, “ in this matter it is for you 
to^ decide. I know not the Nana’s wishes, and your 
Highness must take the responsibility. I have brought 
him to you rather than to the commander of the Sepoys, 
because your authority should be the greater; it is 
you and the other Oude chiefs who have borne the 
weight of this siege, and it is only right that it is 
you who should decide the conditions of surrender. 
The Sepoys are not our masters, and it is well they are 
not so; the Nana and the Oude chiefs have not taken 
up arms to free themselves from the English Raj, to be 
ruled over by the men who have been the servants of 
the English.” 

“That is so,” the Zemindar said, stroking his beard; 
“ well, I will talk with this person. ” 

Rujub left the tent. “You do not know me, For 
Sing?” Bathurst -said, stepping forward from the en- 
trance where he had hitherto stood ; “ I am the Sahib 
Bathurst. ” 

“ Is it so?” the Zemindar said, laying aside his pipe 
and rising to his feet. “ None could come to me, whom I 
would rather see. You have always proved yourself a 
just officer and I have no complaint against you. We 
have often broken bread together, and it has grieved 
me to know that you were in yonder house. Do you 
come to me on your own account, or from the Sahib 
who commands?” 

“ I come on my own account,” Bathurst said; “when 
I come as a messenger from him I must come openly. 

I know you to be an. honorable man, and that I could 
say. what I have to say to you and depart in safety. I 
regard you as one who has been misled, and regret for 
your sake that you should have been led to take part 


292 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

with these mutineers against us. Believe me, chief, 
you have been terribly misled. You have been told 
that it needed but an effort to overthrow the British 
Raj. Those who told you so lied. It might have 
seemed easy to destroy the handful of Europeans scat- 
tered throughout India. You have not succeeded in do- 
ing so, but had you done so, you would not even have 
begun the work. There are but few white soldiers 
here. Why? Because England trusted in the fidelity 
of her native troops, and thought it necessary to keep 
but a handful of soldiers in India; but if need be, for 
every soldier now here she could send a hundred, and 
she will send a hundred if it be needed to reconquer 
India. ^ Already you may be sure that ships are on the 
sea laden with troops, and if you find it is so hard to 
overcome the few soldiers now here, what would you 
do against the great armies that will pour in ere long? 
Wh)% all the efforts of the Sepoys gathered at Delhi 
are insufficient to defeat the four or five thousand British 
troops that hold their posts outside the town waiting 
only till the succors arrive from England to take a ter- 
rible vengeance. Woe be then to those who have taken 
part against us; still more to those whose hands are 
stained with British blood!” 

“ It is too late now, ” the native said» gloomily ; “ the 
die is cast, but since I have seen how a score of men 
could defend that shattered house against thousands, do 
you think I have not seen that I have done wrong? 
Who would have thought that men could do such a 
thing? But it is too late now.” 

“ It is not too late,” Bathurst said; “it is too late in 
deed to undo the mischief that has been done, but no., 
too date for 5^ou to secure yourself against some of the 
consequences. The English are just, and when they 
shall have stamped out this mutiny, as assuredly they 
will do, they will draw a distinction between mutinous 
soldiers, who were false to their salt, and native chiefs 
who fought, as they believed, for the independence of 
their country. But one thing they will not forgive, 
whether in Sepoy or Prince — the murder of man, woman* 
or child in cold blood; for that there will be no pardon! 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


293 


“ But it is not upon that ground that I came to ap- 
peal to you, but as a noble of Oude — a man who is a 
brave enemy, but who could never be a butcher. We 
have fought against each other fairly and evenly; the 
time has come when we can fight no longer, and I de- 
mand of you, confidently, that if we surrender the lives 
of all within those walls shall be respected and a safe- 
conduct be granted them down the country. I know 
that such conditions were granted to the garrison at 
Cawnpore, and that they were shamelessly violated; 
for that act, Nana Sahib will never be forgiven. He 
will be hunted down like a dog and hung when he is 
caught, just as if he had been the poorest peasant. But 
I have not so bad an opinion of the people of India as 
to believe them base enough to follow such an example, 
and I am confident that if you grant us those terms 
you will see that the conditions are observed.” 

“ I have received orders from Nana Sahib to send all 
prisoners down to him,” Por Sing said in a hesitating 
voice. 

“You will never send down prisoners from here,” 
Bathurst replied firmly. “ You may attack us again, 
and after the loss of the lives of scores more of your 
followers you may be successful, but you will take no 
prisoners, for at the last moment we will blow the 
house and all in it into the air. Besides, who made 
Nana Sahib your master? He is not the lord of Oude; 
and though doubtless he dreams of sovereignty, it is a 
rope, not a throne, that awaits him. Why should you 
nobles of Oude obey the orders of this peasant boy, 
though he was adopted by the Peishwa? The Peishwa 
himself was never your lord, and why should you obey 
this traitor, this butcher, this disgrace to India, when 
he orders you to hand over to him the prisoners your 
sword has made?” 

“That is true,” Por Sing said gloomily; “but the 
Sepoys will not agree to the terms. ” 

“The Sepoys are not your masters,” Bathurst said; 
“ we do not surrender to them but to you. We place 
no confidence in their word, but we have every faith in 
the honor of the nobles of Oude. If you and your 


294 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

friends grant us the terms we ask, the Sepoys may 
clamor, but they will not venture to do more. Neither 
they nor Nana Sahib dare at this moment affront the 
people of Oude. There are Sepoys round Lucknow, 
but it is the men of Oude who are really pressing the 
siege. If you are firm they will not dare to break with 
you on such a qtlestion as the lives of a score of Euro- 
peans. If you will give me your word and your honor 
that all shall be spared I will come out in the morning 
with a flag of truce to treat with you. If not, we will 
defend ourselves to the last, and then blow ourselves 
into the air.” 

“And you think,” For Sing said doubtfully, “that if 
I agreed with this, it would be taken into consideration 
should the British Raj be restored. ” 

“I can promise you that it will,” Bathurst said. 
“ It will be properly represented that it is to 5^ou that 
the defenders of Deennugghur, and the women and 
children with them, owe their lives, and you may be 
sure that this will go a very long way toward wiping 
out the part you have taken in the attack on the station. 
When the day of reckoning comes the British Govern- 
ment will know how as well to reward those who ren- 
dered them service in these days, as to punish those who 
have been our foes. ” 

“ I will do it,” For Sing said firmly. “ Do not come 
out until the afternoon. In the morning I will talk 
with the other Zemindars, and bring them over to agree 
that there shall be no more bloodshed. There is not 
one of us but is heartily sick of this business, and eager 
to put an end to it. Rujub may report what he likes 
to the Nana, I will do what is right.” 

After a hearty expression of thanks Bathurst left the 
tent. Rujub was awaiting him outside. 

“You have succeeded?” he asked. 

“Yes; he will guarantee the lives of all the garrison, 
but he seemed to be afraid of what you might report to 
Nana Sahib.” 

“ I am the Nana’s agent here,” Rujub said; “ I have 
been working with him for months. I would I could 
undo it all now. I was away when they surrendered 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 295 

at Cawnpore — had I not been that massacre would 
never have taken place, for I am one of the few who 
have influence with him. He knows my power and 
fears it.” 

They made their way back without interruption to 
the clump of bushes near the house. 

“When shall I see you again?” Bathurst asked. 

“ I do not know,” replied Rujub, “ but be sure that I 
shall be at hand to aid you, if possible, should danger 
arise.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

As soon as Bathurst began to remove the covering of 
the hole a vol^ came from below. 

“ Is that you, Bathurst?” 

“ All right. Doctor. ” 

“ Heaven be praised! You are back sooner than I 
expected by a long way. I heard voices talking, so I 
doubted whether it was you.” 

“ The ladder is still there, I suppose. Doctor?” 

“ Yes, it is just as you got off it. What are you going 
to do about the hole?” 

“ Rujub is here, he will cover it up after me.” 

“Then you were right,” the Doctor said, as Bathurst 
stepped down beside him, “ and you found the juggler 
really waiting for you?” 

“ At the bungalow. Doctor, as I expected. ” 

“And what have you done? You can hardly have 
seen Por Sing ; it is not much over an hour since you 
left.” 

“ I have seen him, Doctor, and what is more, he has 
pledged his word for our safety. ” 

“ Thank God for that, lad! it is more than I expected, 
This will be news, indeed, for the poor women. And 
do you think he will be strong enough to keep his 
pledge?” 

“ I think so. He asked me to wait until tb-morrow 
afternoon before going out with a flag of truce, and 
said that by that time he would get the other Talook- 


296 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. ’ 


dars to stand by him, and would make terms whether 
the Sepoys liked it or not.”, 

“Well, you shall tell us all about it afterward, Bath- 
urst. Let us take the news in to them at once; it is 
long since they had good tidings of any kind ; it would 
be cruel to keep them in suspense, even for five 
minutes.” 

There was no noisy outburst of joy when the news 
was told. Three weeks before it would have been re- 
ceived with the liveliest satisfaction, but now the bit- 
terness of death was well-nigh passed; half the children 
lay in their graves in the garden, scarce one of the 
ladies but had lost husband or child, and while women 
murmured, “ Thank God !” as they clasped their children 
to them, the tears ran down as they thought how dif- 
ferent it would have been had the news come sooner. 
The men, although equally quiet, yet showed more 
outward satisfaction than the women. Warm grasps 
of the hands were exchanged by those who had fought 
side by side during these terrible days, and a load 
seemed lifted at once off their shoulders. 

Bathurst stayed but a moment in the room after this 
news was told, but went in with Doctor Wade to the 
Major and reported to him in full the conversation that 
had taken place between himself and For Sing. 

“I think you are right, Bathurst; if the Oude men 
hold together, the Sepoys will scarcely risk a breach 
with them. Whether he will be able to secure our 
safety afterward is another thing. ” 

“ I quite see that. Major, but it seems to me that we 
have no option but to accept his offer and hope for the 
best.” 

“That is it,” the Doctor agreed; “it is certain death 
if we don’t surrender. There is a chance that he will 
be able to protect us if we do. At an)^ rate, we can be 
no worse off than we are here.” 

Isobel had been in with Mrs. Doolan nursing the sick 
children when Bathurst arrived, but they presently 
came out. Isobel shook hands with him without 
speaking. 

“We are all heavily indebted to you, Mr. Bathurst,” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 297 

Mrs. Doolan said. “ If we escape from this, it will be 
to you that we humanly owe our lives.” 

She spoke in a voice that all in the room could hear. 

“You are right, Mrs. Doolan,” the Doctor said, “and 
I think that there* are some who must regret novf the 
manner in which they have behaved to Bathurst since 
this siege began.” 

“ I do for one, ” Captain Doolan said, coming forward. 
“ I have regretted it for some time, though I have not 
had the manliness to say so. I am heartily sorry I 
have done you a great and cruel injustice. I ought to 
have known that the Doctor, who knew you vastly bet- 
ter than I did, was not likely to be mistaken. Putting 
that aside I ought to have seen, and I did see, though 
I would not acknowledge it, even to myself, that no 
man has borne himself more calmly and steadfastly 
through this siege than you have, and that by twice 
venturing out among the enemy you gave proof that 
you possessed as much courage as any of us. I do hope 
that you will give me your hand.” 

All the others who had held aloof from Bathurst came 
forward and expressed their deep regret for what had 
occurred. 

Bathurst heard them in silence. 

“ I do not feel that there is anything to forgive,” he 
said quietly. “ I am glad to hear what you say, and I 
know you mean it, and I accept the hands you offer; 
but what you felt toward me has affected me but little, 
for your contempt for me was nothing to my contempt 
of myself. Nothing can alter the fact that here, where 
every man’s hand was wanted to defend the ladies and 
children, my hand was paralyzed; that whatever I may 
be at other times, in the hour of battle I fail hopelessly; 
nothing that I can do can wipe out that disgrace.” 

“You exaggerate it altogether, Bathurst,” Wilson 
broke in hotly. “ It is nonsense your talking like that, 
after the way you jumped down into the middle of them 
with that mace of yours. It was splendid.” 

“More than that, Mr. Bathurst,” Mrs. Doolan said. 
“ I think we women know what true courage is ; and 
there is not one of us but has, since this siege began, 


298 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

been helped and strengthened by your calmness — not 
one but has reason to be deeply grateful for your kind- 
ness to our children during this terrible time. I won’t 
hear even you speak against yourself. ” 

“ Then I will not do so, Mrs. Doolan,” he said with a 
grave smile. “ And now I will go and sit with the 
Major for a time. Things are quieter to-night than 
they have been for some time past, and I trust he will 
get some sleep.” 

So saying he quietly left the room. 

“ I don’t believe he has slept two hours at a time 
since the siege began,” Mrs. Doolan said with tears in 
her eyes. “We have all suffered, God only knows 
what we have suffered, but I am sure that he has suf- 
fered more than any of us. As for you men, you may 
well say you are sorry and ashamed of your treatment of 
him. Coward, indeed! Mr. Bathurst may be nervous, 
but I am sure he has as much courage as any one here. 
Come, Isobel, 5^ou were up all last night and it’s past 
two o’clock now. We must try to get a little sleep before 
morning, and I should advise every one else off duty 
to do the same. ” 

At daybreak firing recommenced and was kept up 
energetically all the morning. At two o’clock a white 
flag was hoisted from the terrace, and its appearance 
was greeted with shouts of triumph by the assailants. 
The firing at once ceased, and in a few minutes a native 
officer carr)dng a w*hite flag advanced toward the walls. 

“We wish to see the Zemindar For Sing,” Bathurst 
said, “ to treat with him upon the subject of our sur- 
render.” 

The officer withdrew, and returned in half an hour 
saying, that he would conduct the officer in command 
to the presence of the chief of the besieging force. 
Captain Doolan, therefore, accompanied by Bathurst 
and Dr. Wade, went out. They were conducted to 
the great tent where all the Talookdars and the princi- 
pal officers of the Sepoys were assembled. Bathurst 
acted as spokesman. 

“For Sing,” he said, “and you Zemindars of Glide, 
Major Hannay being disabled, Captain Doolan, who is 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 299 

now in command of the garrison, has come to represent 
him and to offer to surrender to you under the condition 
that the lives of all British and natives within the walls 
be respected, and that you pledge us your faith and 
honor that we shall be permitted to go down the country 
without molestation. It is to you. For Sing, and you 
nobles of Oude, that we surrender, and not to those 
who, being sworn soldiers, have mutinied against the 
officers, and have in many cases treacherously murdered 
them. With such men Major Hannay will have no 
dealings, and it is to you that we surrender. Major 
Hannay bids me say, that if this offer is refused, we 
can for a long time prolong our resistance. We are 
amply supplied with provisions and munitions of war, 
and many as are the numbers of our assailants who 
have fallen already, yet more will die before you obtain 
possession of the house. More than that, in no case 
will we be taken prisoners, for one and all have firmly 
resolved to fire the magazine when resistance is no 
longer possible, and to bury ourselves and our assail- 
ants in the ruins. ” 

When Bathurst ceased, a hubbub of voices arose, the 
Sepoy officers protesting that the surrender should be 
made to them. It was some minutes before anything 
like quietness was restored, and then one of the officers 
said: “ Here is Rujub, he speaks in the name of Nana. 
What does he say to this?” 

Rujub, who was handsomely attired, stepped forward. 

“ I have no orders from His Highness on this sub- 
ject,” he said. “He certainly said that the prisoners 
were to be sent to him, but at present there are no 
prisoners, nor, if the siege continues and the English 
carry out their threat, will there be any prisoners. I 
cannot think that Nana Sahib would wish to see some 
hundreds more of his countrymen slain or blown up, 
only that he may have these few men and women in 
his power.” 

“We have come hereto take them and kill them,” 
one of the officers said defiantly, “ and we will do so.” 

For Sing, who had been speaking with the Talook- 
dars round him, rose from his seat. 


300 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ It seems to me that it is for us to decide this mat- 
ter,” he vsaid. “It is upon us that the losses of this 
siege have fallen. At the order of Nana Sahib we col- 
lected our retainers, abandoned our homes, and have 
for -three weeks supported the dangers of this siege. 
We follow the Nana but we are not his vassals, nor do 
we even know what his wishes are in this matter, but 
it seems to us that we have done enough and more 
than enough. Numbers of our retainers and kinsmen 
have fallen, and to prolong the siege would cause 
greater loss, and what should we gain by it? The pos- 
session of a heap of stones. Therefore, we are all of 
opinion that this offer to surrender should be accepted. 
We war for the freedom of our country, and have no 
thirst for the blood of these English Sahibs, still less 
for that of their wives and children.” 

Some of the officers angrily protested, but For Sing 
stood firm and the other Talookdars were equally de- 
termined. Seeing this the officers consulted together, 
and the highest in rank then said to the Talookdars, 
“We protest against these conditions being given, but 
since you are resolved we stand aside and are ready to 
agree for ourselves and our men to what you may 
decide.” 

“What pledges do you require?” For Sing asked 
Bathurst. 

“We are content. Rajah, with your personal oath 
that the lives of all within the house shall be respected, 
and your undertaking that they shall be allowed to go 
unharmed down the country. We have absolute faith 
in the honor of the nobles of Oude and can desire no 
better guarantee. ” 

“ I will give it,” For Sing said, “and all my friends 
will join me in it. To-night I will have boats collected 
on the river. I will furnish you with an escort of my 
troops, and will myself accompany you and see 5’ou 
safely on board. I will then not only give you a safe- 
conduct, praying all to let you pass unharmed, but my 
son with ten men shall accompany you in the boats to 
inform all that my honor is concerned in your safety, 
and that I have given my personal pledge that no 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


301 


molestation shall be offered to you. I will take my 
oath, and my friends will do the same, and I doubt not 
that the commander of the Sepoy troops will join me 
in it.” 

Bathurst translated what had been said to Captain 
Doolan. 

“ It is impossible for him to do more than that,” he 
concluded ; “ I do not think there is the least question 
as to his good faith. ” 

“He is a fine old heathen,” Captain Doolan said. 
“Tell him we will accept his terms.” 

Bathurst at once signified this, and the Rajah then 
took a solemn oath to fulfil the conditions of the agree- 
ment; the other Talookdars doing the same, and the 
commander of the Sepoys also doing so without hesita- 
tion. Por Sing then promised that some carts should 
be collected before morning, to carry the ladies, the 
sick and wounded, down to the river, which was eight 
miles distant. 

“ You can sleep in quiet to-night,” he added ; “ I will 
place a guard of my own men round the house, and see 
that none trouble you in any way.” 

A few other points were settled, and then the party 
returned to the house, to which they were followed a 
few minutes later by the son of Por Sing and three lads, 
sons of other Zemindars. Bathurst went down to meet 
them when their approach was noticed by the Iqokout 
on the roof. 

“We have come to place ourselves in your hands as 
hostages. Sahib,” Por Sing’s son said; “my father 
thought it likely that the Sepoys or others might make 
trouble, and he said that if we were in your hands as 
hostages all our people would see that the agreement 
must be kept, and would oppose themselves more vigor- 
ously to the Sepoys.” 

“ It was thoughtful and kind of your father,” Bathurst 
said. “ As far as accommodation is concerned, we can 
do little to make you comfortable, but in other respects 
we are not badly provided ” 

Some of the native servants were at once told off to 
erect an awning over a portion of the terrace. Tables 


302 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


and couches were placed here, and Bathurst undertook 
the work of entertaining the visitors. 

He was glad of the precaution that had been taken 
in sending them, for with the glass he could make out 
that there was much disturbance in the Sepoy lines, 
men gathering in large groups with much shouting and 
noise. Muskets were discharged in the direction of 
the house, and it was evident that the mutineers were 
very discontented with the decision that had been ar- 
rived at. 

In a short time, however, a body, some hundred 
strong, of the Oude fighting men moved down and 
surrounded the house, and when a number of the 
Sepo5"S approached with excited and menacing gest- 
ures, one of the Zemindars went out to meet them, and 
Bathurst, watching the conference, could see by his 
pointing to the roof of the house that he was informing 
them that hostages had been given to the Europeans 
for the due observance of the treaty, and doubted not 
he was telling them that their lives would be endan- 
gered by any movement. Then he pointed to the bat- 
teries, as if threatening that if any attack was made the 
guns would be turned upon them. At any rate, after 
a time they moved away, and gradually the Sepoys 
could be seen returning to their lines. 

There were but few preparations to be made by the 
garrispn for their journey. It had been settled that 
they might take their personal effects with them, but 
it was at once agreed to take as little as possible, as there 
would probably be but little room in the boats, and the 
fewer things they carried the less there would be to 
fempt the cupidity of the natives. 

“Well, Bathurst, what do you think of the lookout?" 
the Doctor asked, as late in the evening they sat together 
on some sand-bags in a corner of the terrace. 

“ I think that if we get past Cawnpore in safety there 
is not much to fear. There is no other large place on 
the rivp, and the lower we get down the less likely 
the natives are to disturb us ; knowing, as they are al- 
most sure to do, that a force is gathering at Allahabad. " 

“ After what you heard of the massacre of the prison- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 303 

ers at Cawnpore, whom the Nana and his officers had 
all sworn to allow to depart in safety, there is little 
hope that this scoundrel will respect the arrangements 
made here.” 

“We must pass the place at night, and trust to drift- 
ing down unobserved — the river is wide there — and 
keeping near the opposite shore we may get past in 
the darkness without being perceived, and even if they 
do make us out the chances are they will not hit us. 
There are so few of us that there is no reason why they 
Should trouble greatly about us.” 

“ I am sorry to say, Bathurst, that I don’t like the ap- 
pearance of the Major’s wound. Everything has been 
against him ; the heat, the close air, and his anxiety of 
mind have all told on him. He seems very low and I 
have great doubts whether he will even see Allahabad. ” 

“ I hope you are wrong, Doctor, but I thought myself 
there was a change for the worse when I saw him an 
hour ago ; there was a drawn look about his face I did 
not like. He is a splendid fellow; nothing could have 
been kinder than he has been to me. I wish I could 
change places with him.” 

The Doctor grunted. “ Well, as none of us may see 
Allahabad, Bathurst, you need not trouble yourself on 
that score. I wonder what has become of your friend 
the conjurer. I thought he might have been in to see 
you this afternoon.” 

“ I did not expect him,” Bathurst said; “ I expect he 
went as far as he dared in what he said at the Durbar 
to-day. Probably he is doing all he can to keep mat- 
I ters quiet. Of course he may have gone down to Cawn- 
pore to see Nana Sahib, but I should think it more 
probable that he would remain here until he knows we 
are safe on board the boats. ” 

“Ah, here is Wilson,” said the Doctor; “he is a fine 
young fellow, and I am very glad he has gone through 
it safely.” 

“So am I,” Bathurst said warmly. “ Here we are, 
Wilson.” 

“I thought I would find you both smoking here,” 
Wilson said, as he seated himself. “ It is awfully hot 


304 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

below and the ladies are all at work picking out the 
things they are going to take with them and packing 
them, and as I could not be of any use at that, I thought 
I would come up for a little fresh air, if one can call it 
fresh, but in fact, I would rather sit over an open drain, 
for the stench is horrible. How quiet everything seems 
to-night ! After crouching here for the last three weeks 
listening to the boom of their cannon and the rush of 
their balls overhead, or the crash as they hit something, 
it seems quite unnatural; one can’t help thinking that 
something is going to happen. I don’t believe I shalf 
be able to sleep a wink to-night ; while generally, in 
spite of the row, it has been as much as I could do to 
keep my eyes open. I suppose I shall get accustomed 
to it in time. At present it seems too unnatural to en- 
joy it.” 

“ You had better get a good night’s sleep if you can, 
Wilson, ” the Doctor said. “ There won ’t be much sleep 
for us in the boats till we see the walls of Allahabad.” 

“ I suppose not. Doctor. I expect we shall be hor- 
ribly cramped up. I long to be there. I am sure to 
get attached to one of the regiments coming up and to 
help in giving the thrashing to these scoundrels that 
they deserve. I would give a year’s pay to get that 
villain Nana Sahib within reach of my sword. It is 
awful to think of the news j^ou brought in, Bathurst, 
and that there are hundreds of women and children in 
his power now. What a day it will be when we march 
into Cawnpore!” 

“Don’t count your chickens too soon, Wilson,” the 
Doctor said. “ The time I am looking forward to is 
when we shall have passed Cawnpore on our way down ; 
that is quite enough for me to look forward to at 
present. ” 

“ Yes, I was thinking of that myself,” Wilson replied. 

“ If the Nana could not be bound by the oath he had 
taken himself he is not likely to respect the agreement 
made here.” 

“We must pass the place at night,” Bathurst said, 

“ and trust to not being seen. Even if they do make 
us out we shan’t be under fire long unless they follow 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


305 


US down the bank ; but if the night is dark they may 
not make us out at all. Fortunately there is no moon, 
and boats are not very large marks even by daylight, 
and at night it would only be a chance shot that would 
hit us. ” 

“ Yes, we vShould be as difficult to hit as a tiger,” the 
Doctor put in. 

Wilson laughed. 

“ I have gained a lot of experience since then, Doctor. 
What ages that seejnsJjaTck ! Years almost.” 

“ It does, indeed,” the Doctor agreed ; “ we count time 
by incidents and not by days. Well, I think I shall 
turn in. Are you coming, Bathurst?” 

“ No, I could not sleep, ” Bathurst said ; ” I shall watch 
till morning. I feel sure it is all safe, but the muti- 
neers might attempt something. ” 

The night, however, passed off quietly, and soon after 
daybreak eight bullock carts were seen approaching, 
with a strong body of Oude men. Half an hour later 
the luggage was packed, and the sick and wounded laid 
on straw in the wagons. Several of the ladies took 
their places with them, but Mrs. Doolan, Isobel, and 
Mary Hunter said they would walk for a while. It 
had been arranged that the men might carry out their 
arms with them, and each of the ten able to walk took 
their rifles, while all, even the women, had pistols about 
them. Just as they were ready. For Sing and several 
of the Zemindars rode up on horseback. 

“We shall see you to the boats,” he said. “Have 
you taken provision for your voyage? It would be bet- 
ter not to stop to buy anything on the way.” 

This precaution had been taken, and as soon as all 
was ready they set out, guarded by four hundred Oude 
matchlock men. The Sepoys had gathered near the 
house, and as soon as they left it there was a rush made 
to secure the plunder. 

“ I shoud have liked to have emptied the contents of 
some of my bottles into the wine, ” the Doctor growled ; 
“it would not have been strictly professional perhaps, 
but it would have been a good action. ” 

“ I am sure you would not have given them poison, 
20 


3o6 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Doctor,” Wilson laughed, “but a reasonable dose of 
ipecacuanha might hardly have gone against your con- 
science.” 

“ My conscience has nothing to do with it,” the Doc- 
tor said. “ These fellows came from Cawnpore, and I 
have no doubt took part in the massacre there. My 
conscience wouldn’t have troubled me if I could have 
poisoned the whole of the scoundrels or put a slow 
match in the magazine and blown them all into the air, 
but under the present conditions it would hardly have 
been politic, as one couldn’t be sure of annihilating the 
whole of them. Well, Miss Hannay, what are you 
thinking of?” 

“ I am thinking that my uncle looks worse this 
morning. Doctor; does it not strike you so too?” 

“We must hope that the fresh air will do him good. 
One could not expect any one to get better in that place ; 
it was enough to kill a healthy man, to say nothing of a 
sick one.” 

Isobel was walking by the side of the cart in which 
her uncle was lying, and it was not long before she took 
her place beside him. 

The Doctor shook his head. 

“Can you do nothing. Doctor?” Bathurst said, in a 
low tone. 

“Nothing; he is weaker this morning. Still the 
change of air may help him and he may have strength 
to fight through; the wound itself is a serious one, but 
he would under other circumstances have got over it. 
As it is, I think his chance a very poor one, though I 
would not say as much to her. ” 

After three hours’ travel they reached the river. Here 
two large native boats were lying by the bank; the 
t>aggage and sick were soon placed on board, and the 
Europeans with the native servants were then divided 
between them and the Rajah’s son and six of the re- 
tainers took their places in one of the boats. The Doc- 
tor and Captain Doolan had made out the list dividing 
the party. The Major and the other sick men were all 
placed in one boat, and in this were the Doctor, Bath- 
urst, and four civilians, with Isobel Hannay, Mrs. 


IN THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


307 


Hunter, and her daughter. Captain Doolan, his wife, 
Mrs. Rihtoul, and the other three ladies, with the six 
cliildren who had alone survived, and the rest of the 
party, were in the other boat. 

For Sing and his companions were thanked heartily 
for the protection they had given. Bathurst gave them 
a document which had been signed by all the party, 
testifying to the service they had rendered. 

“ If we don’t get down to Allahabad,” Bathurst said, 
as he handed it to him, “ this will ensure you good 
treatment when the British troops come up. If we get 
there we will represent your conduct in such a light 
that I think I can promise you that the part you took 
in the siege will be forgiven.” 

Then the boats piished' off and started on their way 
down the stream. 

The distance by water to Cawnpore was over forty 
miles; it was already eleven o’clock and slow progress 
only could be made with the heavy boats, but it was 
thought that they would be able to pass the town be- 
fore daylight began to break next morning, and they 
therefore pushed on as rapidly as they could, the boat- 
men being encouraged to use their utmost efforts by 
the promise of a large reward upon their arrival at Al- 
lahabad. 

There was but little talk in the boats. Now that the 
strain was over all felt its effects severely. The Doc- 
tor attended to his patients, Isobel sat by the side of 
her uncle, giving him some broth that they had brought 
with them, from time to time, or moistening his lips 
with weak brandy and water. He spok&only occasion- 
ally. 

“I don’t much think I shall get down to Allahabad, 
Isobel,” he said. “ If I don’t, go down to Calcutta, and 
go straight to Jamieson & Son, they are my agents, 
and they will supply you with money to take you home ; 
they have a copy of my will, my agents in London have 
another copy. I had two made in case of accident.” 

“ Oh, uncle, you will get better now you are out of 
that terrible place.” 

“ I am afraid it is too late, my dear, though I should 


3o8 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


like to live for your sake. But I think I see happiness 
before you, if you choose to take it ; he is a noble fel- 
low, Isobel, in spite of that unfortunate weakness.” 

Isobel made no answer, but a slight pressure of the 
hand she was holding showed that she understood what 
he meant. It v/as no use to tell her uncle that she felt 
that what might have been was over now. Bathurst 
had chatted with her several times on the evening be- 
fore and during the march that morning, but she felt 
the difference between his tone and that in which he 
had addressed her in the old times before the troubles 
began. It was a subtle difference that she could hardly 
have explained even to herself, but she knew that it 
was as a friend, and as a friend only, that he would treat 
her in the future, and that the past was a closed book, 
which he was determined not to reopen. 

Bathurst talked to Mrs. Hunter and her daughter, 
both of whom were mere shadows, worn out with grief, 
anxiety and watching. At times he went forward to 
talk to the young noble, who had taken his seat there. 
Both boats had been arched in with a canopy of boughs 
to serve alike as a protection from the sun and to screen 
those within from the sight of natives in boats or on the 
banks. 

“You don’t look yourself, Bathurst, ” the Doctor said 
to him late in the afternoon; “everything seems going 
on well, no boats have passed us, and the boatmen all 
say that we shall pass Cawnpore about one o’clock at 
the rate at which we are going. ” 

“ I feel nervous. Doctor ; more anxious than I have 
been ever since this began ; there is an apprehension of 
danger weighing over me that I can’t account for. As 
you say, everything seems going on well, and yet I feel 
that it is not so. I am afraid I am getting superstitious, 
but I feel as if Rujub knows of some danger impending, 
and that he is somehow conveying that impression to 
me. I know that there is nothing to be done, and that 
we are doing the only thing that we can do, unless we 
were to land and try and make our way down on foot, 
which would be sheer madness. That the man can in 
some way impress my mind at a distance is evident 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 


309 


from that summons he gave me to meet him at the 
ruins of my bungalow, but I do not feel the same clear 
distinct perception of his wishes now as I did then. 
Perhaps he himself is not aware of the particulars of 
the danger that threatens, or, knowing them, he can see 
no way of escape out of them. It may be that at night, 
when everything is quiet, one’s mind is more open to 
such impressions than it is when we are surrounded by 
other people and have other things to think of, but I 
feel an actual consciousness of danger.” 

“ I don’t thiiik there can be any danger until we get 
down near Cawnpore. They may possibly be on the 
lookout for us there, and may even have boats out on 
the stream. It is possible that the Sepoys may have 
sent down word yesterday afternoon to Nana Sahib tlfat 
we had surrendered and should be starting by boat 
this morning, but I don’t think there can be any dan- 
ger till we get there, Should we meet native boats 
and be stopped, Por Sing’s son will be able to induce 
them to let us pass. Certainly none of the villagers 
about here would be likely to dispute it. Once beyond 
Cawnpore, I believe that he would have sufficient in- 
fluence, speaking as he does in the name, not only of his 
father, but of other powerful land-owners, to induce any 
of these Oude people to let us pass. No, I regard Cawn- 
pore as our one danger. I believe it to be a very real 
danger. I have been thinking, indeed, that it would 
be a good thing when we get within a couple of miles 
of the place, for all who are able to walk to land on the 
o*pposite bank and make their way along past Cawnpore 
and take to the boats again a mile below the town. ” 

“That would be an excellent plan. Doctor; but if the 
boats were stopped and they found the sick, they would 
kill them to a certainty. I don’t think we could leave 
them. I am quite sure Miss Hannay would not leave 
her uncle.” 

“ I think we might get over even that, Bathurst. 
There are only the Major and the other two men, and 
Mrs. Forsyth and three children, too ill to walk. There 
are eight of the native servants, ourselvq^, and the 
young Rajah’s retainers. We ought to have no dif- 


310 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


ficulty in carrying the wounded. As to the luggage, 
that must be sacrificed, so that the boatmen can go 
down with empty benches. It must be pitched over- 
board. The loss would be of no real consequence; 
every one could manage with what they have on until 
we get to Allahabad. There would be no difficulty in 
getting what we require there.” 

“ I think the plan is an excellent one. Doctor. I will 
ask the young chief if his men will help us to carry the 
sick. If he says yes, we will go alongside the other 
boat and explain our plan to Doolan. ” 

The young Rajah at once assented, and the boat being 
rowed up to the other, the plan was explained and ap- 
proved of. No objection was raised by any one, even 
to'f he proposal of getting rid of all the luggage ; and as 
soon as the matter was arranged, a general disposition 
toward cheerfulness was manifested. Every one had 
felt that the danger of passing Cawnpore would be im- 
mense, and this plan -for avoiding it seemed to lift a 
load from their minds. 

It was settled they should land at some spot where 
the river was bordered by bushes and young trees ; that 
stout poles should be cut, and blankets fastened between 
them, so as to form stretchers on which the sick could 
be carried. 

As far as possible the boats were kept on the left side 
of the river, but at times shallows rendered it necessary 
to keep over by the right bank. Whenever they were 
near the shore silence was observed lest the foreign 
tongue should be noticed by any one near the bank. 

Night fell and they still continued their course. An 
hour after sunset they were rowing near the right bank 
— the Major had fallen into a sort of doze, and Isobel 
was sitting next to Bathurst, and they were talking in 
low tones together, when suddenly there was a hail from 
the shore, not fiity yards away. 

What boats are those?” 

“Fishing-boats going down the river,” one of the 
boatmen answered. 

“ Row alongside, we must examine you. ” 

There was ^ moment’s pause, md theu the Doctor 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 3II 

said in the native language, “ Row on, men, and the 
oars of both boats again dipped into the water. 

“We are pressed for time,” the young Zemindar 
shouted, and then, dropping his voice, urged the men 
to row at the top of their speed. 

“ Stop, or we fire,” came from the shore. 

No answer was returned from the boats; they were 
now nearly opposite the speaker. Then came the word, 
“Fire.” Six cannon loaded with grape were dis- 
charged, and a crackle of musketry at the same moment 
broke out. The shot tore through the boats, killing 
and disabling many, and bringing down the arbor of 
boughs upon them. 

A terrible cry arose, and all was confusion. Most 
of the rowers were killed, and the boats drifted help- 
lessly amid the storm of rifle-bullets. 

As the cannon flashed out and the grape swept the 
boats, Bathurst, with a sharp cry, sprang to his feet 
and leaped overboard, as did several others from both 
boats. Diving, he kept under water for some distance, 
and then swam desperately till he reached shallow 
water on the other side of the river, and then fell head- 
foremost on the sand. Eight or ten others also gained 
the shore in a body, and were running toward the bank, 
when the guns were again fired, and all but three were 
swept away by the iron hail. A few straggling musket- 
shots were fired, then orders were shouted and the 
splashing of an oar was heard, as one of the native boat- 
men rowed a boat toward the shore. Bathurst ros^ to 
his feet and ran, stumbling like a drunken man, toward 
the bushes, and just as he reached them fell heavily 
forward and lay there insensible. Three men came out 
from the bushes and dragged him in. As they did so 
loud screams arose from the other bank, then half a 
dozen muskets were fired, and all was quiet. 

It was not for a quarter of an hour that Bathurst was 
conscious of what was going on around him. Some one 
was rubbing his chest and hands. 

“ Who is it?” he asked. 

“Oh, it is you, Bathurst,” he heard Wilson’s voice 
exclaini. “ I thought it was you, but it is so dark now 


312 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 

we are off that white sand that I could not see. Where 
are you hit?” 

“I don’t know,” Bathurst said. “I felt a sort of 
shock as I got out of the water, but I don’t know that I 
am hurt at all.” 

“ Oh, you must be hit somewhere. Try and move 
your arms and legs.” 

Bathurst moved, 

“No, I don’t think I am hit; if I am it is on the head. 
I feel something warm round the back of my neck. ” 

“By Jove! yes/’ Wilson said; “here is where it is; 
there is a cut all along the top of your head, the bullet 
seems to have hit you at the back and gone right along 
over the top. It can’t have gone in or else you would 
not be able to talk. ” • 

“Help me up,” Bathurst said, and he was soon on 
his feet. He felt giddy and confused. “ Who have 
you with you?” he asked. 

“ Two natives. I think one is the young chief and 
the other is one of his followers.” ' 

Bathurst spoke to them in their native language and 
found that Wilson was not mistaken. As soon as he 
found that he was understood, the young chief poured 
off a volley of curses upon those who had attacked them. 

Bathurst stopped him. “ We shall have time for that 
afterward, Murad,” he said; “the first thing is to see 
what had best be done. What has been done since I 
landed, Wilson?” 

“Our boat was pretty nearly cut in two,” Wilson 
said, “ and was sinking when I jumped over ; the other 
boat has been rowed ashore. ” 

“What did you hear, Wilson?” 

“ I heard the women scream, ” Wilson said reluctantly ; 
“ and five or six shots were fired. There has been no 
sound since then. ” 

Bathurst stood silent for a minute. 

“ I do not think they will have killed the women,” he 
s^id ; “ they did not do so at Cawnpore ; they will take 
them there. No doubt they killed the men. Let me 
think for a moment. Now, ” he said, after a long pause, 
“we. must be doing: Murad, your father and friends 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


313 


have given their word for the safety of those you took 
prisoners ; that they have been massacred is no fault of 
your father or of you. This gentleman and myself are 
the only ones saved, as far as we know. Are you sure 
that none others came ashore?” 

“The others were all killed; we alone remaining,” 
Murad said. “ I will go back to my father and he will 
go to Cawnpore and demand vengeance.” 

“You can do that afterward, Murad; the first thing 
is to fulfil your promise, and I cliarge you to take this 
Sahib in safety down to Allahabad. You must push 
on at once, for they may be sending out from Cawn- 
pore at daylight to search the bushes here to see if any 
have escaped. You must go on with him to-night as 
far as you can, and in the morning go into some village, 
buy native’s clothes and disguise him, and then jour- 
ney on to Allahabad.” 

“I will do that,” the young Rajah said, “but what 
about yourself?” 

“ I shall go into (Jawnpore and try to rescue any they 
may have taken. I have a native cloth round me under 
my other clothes, as I thought it might be necessary 
for me to land before we got to Cawnpore to see if 
danger threatened. So I have everything wanting for 
a disguise about me.” 

“What are you saying, Bathurst?” Wilson asked. 

“ I am arranging for Murad and his follower to take 
you down to Allahabad, Wilson. I shall stop at Cawn- 
pore.” 

“Stop at Cawnpore! are you mad, Bathurst?” 

“ No, I am not mad ; I shall stop to see if any of the 
ladies have been taken prisoners, and if so try to rescue 
them. Rujub, the juggler, is there, and will help me.” 

“ But if you can stay I can, Bathurst. If Miss Han- 
nay has been made prisoner I would willingly be killed 
to rescue her.” 

“ I know you would, Wilson, but you would be killed 
without being able to rescue her, and as I should share 
your fate you would render her rescue impossible. I 
can speak the native language perfectly, and know 
native ways. I can move about among th«m without 


314 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

fear of exciting their suspicion. If you were with me 
this would be impossible ; the first native who addressed 
you you would be detected ; your presence would add to 
my difficulties a hundredfold. It is not now a question 
of fighting. Were it only that I should be delighted 
to have you with me. As it is the thing is impossible. 
If anything is done I must do it alone. If I ever reach 
Miss Hannay, she shall know that you were ready to 
run all risks to save her. No, no, you must go on to 
Allahabad, and if you cannot save her now, you will 
be with the force that will rescue her, if I should fail 
to do so, and which will avenge us both if we should 
arrive too late to rescue her. Now I must get you to 
bandage my head, for I feel faint with loss of blood. 
I will take off my shirt and tear it in strips. I have 
got a native disguise next to the skin. We may as well 
leave my clothes behind me here. ” 

As soon as Wilson, with the assistance of Murad, had 
bandaged the wound, the party struck off from the river, 
and after four hours’ walking came down upon it again 
two miles below Cawnpore. Here Bathurst said he 
would stop, stain his skin and complete his disguise. 

“ I hate leaving you,” Wilson said in a broken voice. 
“ There are only you and me left of all our party at 
Deennugghur. It is awful to think the)’’ have all gone 
— the good old chief, the Doctor, and Richards and the 
ladies. There are only we two left. It does seem such 
a dirty, cowardly thing for me to be making off and 
leaving you here alone.” 

“ It is not cowardly, Wilson, for I know you would 
willingly stay if you could be of the slightest use ; but 
as, on the contrary, you would only add to the danger, 
it must be as I have arranged. Good-by, lad; don’t 
stay; it has to be done. God bless you! Good-by, 
Murad. Tell your father when you see him that I know 
no shadow of broken faith rests on him. ” 

So saying, he turned and went into a clump of bushes, 
while Wilson, completely broken down, started on his 
way down country with the two natives, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


3IS 


/chapter XIX. 

Once alone, Bathurst threw himself down among 
the bushes in an attitude of utter depression. 

“Why wasn’t I killed with the others?” he groaned. 
“ Why was I not killed when I sat there by her side?” 

So he lay for an hour, and then slowly rose and 
looked round. There was a faint light in the sky. 

“ It will be light in another hour,” he said to himself, 
and he again sat down. Suddenly he started. Had 
some one spoken, or had he fancied it? 

“ Wait till I come.” He*seemed to hear the words 
plainly, just as he had heard Rujub’s summons before. 

“ That’s it ; it is Rujub. How is it that he can make 
me hear in this way? I am sure it was his voice. 
Anyhow, I will wait. It shows he is thinking of me, 
and I know he will help me. I know I could do nothing 
by myself.” 

Bathurst assumed with unquestioning faith that 
Isobel Hannay was alive. He had no reason for his 
confidence: that first shower of grape might have killed 
her as it killed others, but he would not admit the doubt 
in his mind. Wilson’s description of what had hap- 
pened while he was insensible was one of the grounds 
of this confidence. 

He had heard women scream. Mrs. Hunter and her 
daughter were the only other women in the boat. Isobel 
would not have screamed had those muskets been 
pointed at her, nor did he think the others would have 
done so. They screamed when they saw the natives 
about to murder those who were with them. The three 
women were sitting together, and if one had fallen 
from the grape-shot all would probably have been killed, 
He felt confident, therefore, that she had escaped ; he 
believed he would have known it had she been killed. 

“ If I can be influenced by this juggler surely I should 
have felt it had Isobel died,” he argued, and was satr 
isfied that she was still alive. 

What, however, more than anything else gave him 
hope was the picturq on the smoke, “ Everything els§ 


3i6 in the hays of the mutiny. 

has come true,” he said to himself, “why should not 
that? Wilson spoke of the Doctor as dead. I will not 
believe it, for if he is dead the picture is false. Why 
should that thing, of all others, have been shown to me 
unless it had been true? What seemed impossible to 
me— that I should be fighting like a brave man — has 
come true. Why should not this? I should have 
laughed at such superstition six months ago; now I 
cling to it as my one ground for hope. Well, I will 
wait if I have to stay here until to-morrow night.” 

Noiselessly he moved about in the little wood, going 
.to the edge and looking out, pacing to and fro with 
quick steps, his face set in*a frown, occasionally mut- 
tering to himself. He was in a fever of impatience. 
He longed to be doing something, even if that some- 
thing led to his detention and death. He said to him- 
self that he did not care so that Isobel Hannay did but 
know that he had died in trying to rescue her. 

The sun rose, and he saw the peasants in the fields, 
and caught the sound of a bugle sounding from the lines 
at Cawnpore. At last — it had seemed to him an age, 
but the sun had been up only an hour — he saw a figure 
coming along the river bank. As it approached ’he told 
himself that it was the juggler; if so he had laid aside 
the garments in which he last saw him, and he was 
novT attired as when they first met. When he saw him 
turn off from the river bank and advance straight toward 
the wood he had no doubt that it was the man he ex- 
pected. 

“ Thanks be to the holy ones that you have escaped. 
Sahib,” Riijub said, as soon as he came within speaking 
distance of Bathurst. “ I was in an agony last night. 
I was with you in thought, and saw the boats approach- 
ing the ambuscade. I saw you leap over and swim to 
shore. I saw you fall and cried out ; for a moment 
I thought you were killed. Then I saw you go on and 
fall again, and saw your friends carry you in. I 
watched you recover and come on here, and then I 
willed it that you should wait here till I came for you. 
I have brought you a disguise, for I did not know that 
you had one with you. But, first of all, sit down and 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 317 

let me dress your wound afresh. I have brought all 
that is necessary for it. ” 

“ You are a true friend, Rujub. I relied upon you 
fo^ aid; do you know why I waited here instead of 
going down with the others?” 

“ I know, Sahib. I can tell your thoughts as easily 
when you are away from me as I can when we are to- 
gether. ” 

“ Can you do this with all people?” 

“ No, my lord — to be able to read another’s thoughts 
it is necessary there should be a mystic relation estab- 
lished between them. As I walked beside your horse 
when you carried my daughter before you after saving 
her life, I felt that this relation had commenced, and 
that henceforward our 'fates were connected. It was 
necessary that you should have confidence in me, and 
it was for that reason fhat I showed you some of the 
feats that we rarely exhibit, and proved to you that I 
possessed powers with which you were unacquainted. 
But in thought reading my daughter has greater powers 
than I have, and it was she who last night followed 
you on your journey, sitting with her hand in mine, so 
that my mind followed hers.” 

“ Do you know all that happened last night, Rujub?” 
Bathurst said, summoning up courage to ask the ques- 
tion that had been on his lips from the first. 

“ I only know, my lord, that the party was destroyed, 
save three white women who were brought in just as 
the sun rose this morning ; one was a lady behind whose 
chair you stood the night I performed at f)eennugghur, 
the lady about whom you are thinking. I do not know 
the other two ; one was getting on in life, the other was 
a young one.” 

The relief was so great that Bathurst turned away 
unable for a while to continue the conversation. When 
he returned he asked : “ Did you see them yourself, 
Rujub?” 

“ I saw them. Sahib; they were brought in on a gun- 
carriage. ” 

“ How did they look, Rujub?” , 

“ The old one looked calm and sad. She did not 


3i8 in the days of the mutiny. 

seem to hear the shouts of the budmashes as they 
passed along. She held the young one close to her. 
That one seemed worn out with grief and terror. Your 
mem-Sahib sat upright ; she was very pale and changpd 
from the time I saw her that evening, but she held her 
head high and looked almost scornfully at the men who 
shook their arms and cried at her." 

“ And they put them with the other women that they 
have taken prisoners?" 

Rujub hesitated. 

“ They have put the other two there, Sahib, but her 
they took to Bithoor. " 

Bathurst started and an exclamation of horror and 
rage burst from him. 

“To the Rajah’s!" he exclaimed. “To that scoun- 
drel! Come, let us go. Why are we staying here?" 

“We can do nothing for the moment. Before I 
started I sent off my daughter to Bithoor ; she knows 
many there, and will find out what is being done and 
bring us word, for I dare not show myself there. The 
Rajah is furious with me because I did not support the 
Sepoys, and suffered conditions to be made with your 
people, but now that all has turned out as he wished 
I will in a short time present myself before him again, 
but for the moment it was better that my daughter 
should go, as I had to come to you. But first you had 
better put on the disguise I have brought you. You 
are too big and strong to pass without notice in that 
peasant’s dress. The one I have brought you is such 
as is worn by the rough people, the budmashes, of 
Cawnpore. I can procure others afterward when we 
see what had best be done. It will be easy enough to 
enter Bithoor, for all is confusion there, and men come 
and go as they choose, but it will be well-nigh impos- 
sible for you to penetrate where the mem-Sahib will be 
placed. Even for me, known as I am to all the Rajah’s 
officers, it would be impossible to do so; it is my 
daughter in whom we shall have to trust." 

Bathurst rapidly put on the clothes that Rujub had 
brought with him, thrust a sword, two daggers, and a 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 319 

brace of long-barrelled pistols into the sash round his 
waist. 

“Your color is not dark enough, Sahib. I have 
brought dye with me, but first I must dress the wound 
on your head, and bandage it more neatly, -SO that the 
swathings will not show below the folds of your turban. ’’ 

Bathurst submitted himself impatiently to Rujub’s 
hands. The latter cut off all the hair that would show 
under the turban, dyed the skin the same color as the 
other parts, and finally, after darkening his eyebrows, 
eyelashes and nh^stache, pronounced that he would 
pass any where without attracting attention. Then they 
started at a quick walk along the river, crossed by the 
ferry-boat to Cawnpore, and made their way to a quiet 
street in the native town. 

“This is my house for the present,” Rujub said, pro- 
ducing a key and unlocking a door. He shouted as he 
closed the door behind him and an old woman appeared. 

“ Is the meal prepared?” he asked. 

“ It is ready,” she said. 

“ That is right. Tell Rhuman to put the pony into 
the cart. ” 

He then led the way into a comfortably furnished 
apartment where a meal was laid. 

“Eat, my lord,” he said, “you need it, and will re- 
quire your strength. ” 

Bathurst, who during his walk had felt the effects 
of the loss of blood and anxiety, at once seated himself 
at the table and ate, at first languidly, but, as appetite 
came, more heartily, and felt still more benefited by 
a bottle of excellent wine Rujub had placed beside him. 
The latter returned to the room just as he had finished. 
He was now attired as he had been when Bathurst last 
met him at Deennugghur. 

“I feel another man, Rujub, and ready for any- 
thing.” 

“The cart is ready,” Rujub said. “I have already 
taken my meal ; we do not eat meat, and live entirely 
on vegetables. Meat clouds the senses, and simple 
food and little of it is necessary for those who would 
enter the inner brotherhood.” 


320 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


At the door a small native cart was standing with a 
pony in the shafts. 

“You will go with us, Rhuman,” Rujub said, as he 
and Bathurst took their seats in the cart. 

The boy squatted down at Rujub’s feet, taking the 
reins and whip, and the pony started off at a brisk pace. 
Upon the way, Rujub talked of various matters, of the 
reports of the force that was gathering at Allahabad, 
and the madness of the British in supposing that two 
or three thousand men could withstand the forces of the 
Nana. 

“ They would be eaten up,” he said ; “ the troops will 
go out to meet them ; they will never arrive within 
sight of Cawnpore. ” 

As Bathurst saw that he was talking for the boy to 
hear, rather than to himself, he agreed loudly with all 
that he said, and boasted that even without the Nana’s 
troops and the Sepoys the people of Cawnpore could 
cut the English dogs to pieces. 

The drive was not a long one, and the road was full 
of parties going to or returning from Bithoor — groups 
of Sepoy officers, parties of budm ashes from Cawn- 
pore, mounted messengers, land-owners with their re- 
tainers, and others. Arriving within a quarter of a 
mile of the palace, Rujub ordered the boy to draw 
aside. 

“ Take the horse down that road,” he said, “ and wait 
there until we return. We may be some time ; if we 
are not back by the time the sun sets, you will return 
home.” 

As they approached the palace Bathurst scanned 
every window, as if he hoped to see Isobel’s face at one 
of them. Entering the garden they avoided the terrace 
in front of the house, and sauntering through the groups 
of people, who had gathered discussing the latest news, 
they took their seat in a secluded corner. 

Bathurst 'thought of the last time he had been there, 
when there had been a fete given by the Rajah to the 
residents of Cawnpore, and contrasted the present with 
the past. Then the gardens were lighted up, and a 
crowd of officers and civilians with ladies in white 


IN THE DAYS OE THE MUTINY. 


321 


dresses had strolled along the terrace to the sound of 
gay music, while their host moved about among them 
courteous, pleasant, and smiling. Now the greater 
portion of the men were dead, the women were pris- 
oners in the hands of the native who had professed such 
friendship for them. 

“Tell me, Rujub,” he said presently, “more about 
this force at Allahabad. What is its strength likely to 
be?” 

“ They say there is one British regiment of the Line, 
one of the plumed regiments with bare legs, and one 
of the white Madras regiments; they have a few guns, 
a very few horsemen, that is all, while there are twenty 
thousand troops here. How can they hope to win?” 

“You will see they will win,” Bathurst said sternly. 
“ They have often fought well, but they will fight now 
as they never fought before; every man will feel him- 
self an avenger of . the foul treachery and the brutal 
massacres that have been committed. Were it but one 
regiment that is coming up instead of three I would 
back it against the blood-stained wretches.” 

“ They are fighting for freedom,” Rujub said. 

“ They are fighting for nothing of the sort,” Bathurst 
replied hotly; “they are fighting for they know not 
what — change of masters, for license to plunder, and 
because they are ignorant, and have been led away. I 
doubt not that at present, confident as they may be of 
victory, most of them in their hearts regret what they 
have done. They have forfeited their pensions, they 
have thrown away the benefits of their years of service, 
they have been faithless to their salt, and false to their 
oaths. It is true that they know they are fighting with 
ropes round their necks, but even that won’t avail 
against the discipline and the fury of our troops. I feel 
as certain, Rujub, that in spite of the odds against 
them the English will triumph, as if I saw their column 
marching into the town. I don’t profess .to see the 
future, as you do, but I know enough to tell me that 
ere long that palace you can see through the trees will 
be levelled to the ground, that it is as assuredly doomed 
as if fire had already been applied to its gilded beams. ” 
21 


32 2 IN DAYS OF THEi MtftlNY. 

Rujub nodded. “ I know the palace is doomed ; while 
I have looked at it, it has seemed hidden by a cloud of 
smoke, but I did not think it was the work of the 
British, I thought of an accident.” 

“The Rajah may fire it with his own hands,” Bath- 
urst said, “ but if he does not it will be done for him.” 

“ I have not told you yet. Sahib,” Rujub said, chang- 
ing the subject, “how it was that I could neither pre- 
vent the attack on the boats nor warn you that it was 
coming. I knew at Deennugghur that news had been 
sent of the surrender to the Nana. I remained till I 
knew you were safely in the boats, and then rode to 
Cawnpore. My daughter was at the house when I ar- 
rived, and told me that the Nana was furious with me, 
and that it would not be, safe for me to go near the 
palace. Thus, although I feared that an attack was 
intended, I thought that it would not be until the boats 
passed the town. It was late before I learned that a 
battery of artillery and some infantry had set out that 
afternoon. Then I tried to warn you, but I felt that I 
failed. You were not in a mood when my mind could 
communicate itself to yours.” 

“ I felt very uneasy and restless,” Bathurst said, “but 
I had not the same feeling when you were speaking to 
me that I had that night at Deennugghur; but even 
had I known of the danger, there would have been no 
avoiding it. Had we landed, we must have been over- 
taken, and it would have come to the same thing. Tell 
me, Rujub, had you any idea when I saw you at Deen- 
nugghur that if we were taken prisoners Miss Hannay 
was to be brought here instead of being placed with the 
other ladies?” 

“Yes, I knew it. Sahib; the orders he gave to the 
Sepoys were that every man was to be killed and that 
the women and children were to be taken to Cawnpore, 
except Miss Hannay, who was to be carried here at 
once. The Rajah had noticed her more than once when 
she was at Cawnpore, and had made up his mind that 
she should go to his Zenana.” 

“ Why did you not tell me when you were at Deen- 
nugghur?” 


IN tME DAYS OP IHE MUT'INY, 


323 


“What would have been the use, Sahib? I hoped to 
save you all ; besides it was not until we saw her taken 
past this morning that we knew that the Miss Hannay 
who was to be taken to Bithoor was the lady whom my 
daughter, when she saw her with you that night, said at 
once that you loved. But had we known it, what good 
would it have done to have told you of the Rajah’s or- 
ders? You could not have done more than you have 
done. But now we know, we will aid you to save her.” 

“ How long will your daughter be before she comes? 
It is horrible waiting here.” 

“ You must have patience. Sahib. It will be no easy 
work to get the lady away. There will be guards and 
women to look after her. A lady is not to be stolen 
out of a Zenana as a young bird is taken from its nest.” 

“It is all very well to say ‘Be patient,’” Bathurst 
said, getting up and walking up and down with quick 
angry strides. “ It is maddening to sit here doing 
nothing. If it were not that I had confidence in your 
power and will to aid me I Avould go into the palace 
and stab Nana Sahib to the heart, though I were cut to 
pieces for it the moment afterward.” 

“That would do no good to the lady. Sahib,” Rujub 
said calmly. “ She would only be left without a friend, 
and his death might be the signal for the murder of 
every white prisoner. Ah, here comes my daughter.” 

Rabda came up quickly and stopped before Bathurst 
with her head bowed and her arms crossed in an atti- 
tude of humility. She was dressed in tlie attire worn 
by the principal servants in attendance upon the Ze- 
nana of a Hindoo prince. 

“Well, what news, Rabda?” Bathurst asked eagerly, 

“ The light of my lord’s heart is sick. She bore up 
till she arrived here, and was handed over to the wo- 
men. Then her strength failed her, and she fainted. 
She recovered, but she is lying weak and exhausted 
with all that she has gone through and suffered.” 

“Where is she now?” 

“ She is in the Zenana, looking out into the women’s 
court, that no men are ever allowed to enter.” 

“ Has the Rajah seen her?” 


324 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“ No, Sahib. He was told the state that she was in, 
and the chief lady of the Zenana sent him word that 
for the present she must have quiet and rest, but that 
in two or three days she might be fit to see him.” 

“That is something,” Bathurst said thankfully. 
“ Now we shall have time to think of some scheme for 
getting her out.” 

“You have been in the Zenana yourself, Rabda?” 
Rujub asked. 

“Yes, father; the mistress of the Zenana saw me 
directly an attendant told her I was there. She has 
always been kind to me. I said that you were going 
on a journey, and asked her if I might stay with her 
and act as an attendant until you returned, and she at 
once assented. She asked if I should see you before 
you left, and when I said yes she asked if you could 
not give her some spell that would turn the Rajah’s 
thoughts from this white girl. She fears that if she 
should become first favorite in the Zenana she might 
take things in her hands as English women do, and 
make all sorts of changes. I told her that, doubtless, 
the English girl would do this, and that I thought she 
was wise to ask your assistance. ” 

“You are mad, Rabda,” her father said angrily; 
“ what have I to do with spells and love philters?” 

“ No, father, I knew well enough you would not be- 
lieve in such things, but I thought in this way I might 
see the lady, and communicate with her.” 

“A very good idea, Rabda,” Bathurst said. “Is 
there nothing you can do, Rujub, to make her odious 
to the Nana?” 

“ Nothing, Sahib. I could act upon some people’s 
minds, and make them think that the young lady was 
afflicted by some loathsome disease, but not with the 
Nana. I have many times tried to influence him, but 
without success: his mind is too deep for mine to 
master, and between us there is no sympathy. Could 
I be present with him and the girl I might do some- 
thing, that is, if the powers that aid me would act 
against him; but this I do not think.” 

“Rujub,” Bathurst said suddenly, “there must have 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


325 

been medical stores taken when the camp was captured, 
drugs and things of that sort. Can you find out who 
has become possessed of them?” 

“ I might find out, Sahib. Doubtless the men who 
looted the camp will have sold the drugs to the native 
shops, for English drugs are highly prized. Are there 
drugs that act as the mistress of the Zenana wishes?” 

“No; but there are drugs that applied externally 
would give the appearance of a terrible disease. There 
are acids whose touch would burn and blister the skin 
and turn a beautiful face into a- dreadful mask.” 

“ But would it recover. Sahib?” 

“ The traces might last for a long time, even for life, 
if too much were used, but I am sure Miss Hannay would 
not hesitate for a moment. ” 

“But you. Sahib — would you risk her being dis- 
figured?” 

“ What does it matter to me?” Bathurst asked sternly. 
“ Do you think love is skin deep, and that ’tis only for 
a fair complexion that we choose our wives? Find me 
the drugs, and let Rabda take them into her with a line 
from me. One of them you can certainly get, for it is 
used, I believe, by gold and silver smiths. It is nitric 
acid; the other is caustic potash, or, as it is sometimes 
labelled, lunar caustic. It is in little sticks, but if you 
find out any one who has bought drugs or cases of 
medicines, I will go with you and pick them out.” 

“ There will be no difficulty about finding out where 
the English drugs are. They are certain to be at one 
of the shops where the native doctors buy their medi- 
cines.” 

“ Let us go at once then,” Bathurst said. “You can 
prepare some harmless drink, and Rabda will tell the 
mistress of the Zenana it will bring out a disfiguring 
eruption. We can be back here again this evening. 
Will you be here, Rabda, at sunset, and wait until we 
come? You can tell the woman that you have seen 
your father, and that he will supply her with what, she 
requires. Make some excuse if you can to see. the 
prisoner. vSay you are curious to see the white woman 
who has bewitched the Nana, and if you get the oppor- 


326 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

tunity whisper in her ear these words, ‘Do not despair, 
friends are working for you. ’ ” 

Rabda repeated the English words several times over 
until she had them perfect ; then she made her way back 
to the palace, while Bathurst and his companion pro- 
ceeded at once to the spot where they had left their 
vehicle. 

They had but little difficulty in finding what they 
required. Many of the shops displayed garments, 
weapons, jewelry and other things, the plunder of 
the entrenchments of Cawnpore. Rujub entered sev- 
eral shops where drugs were sold, and finally one of the 
traders said : “ I have a large black box full of drugs 
which I bought from a Sepoy for a rupee, but now that 
I have got it I do not know what to do with it. Some 
of the bottles doubtless contain poisons. I will sell it 
you for two rupees, “which is the value of the box, 
which, as you see, is very strong and bound with iron. 
The contents I place no price upon. ” 

“I will take it,” Rujub said. “I know some of the 
English medicines and may find a use for them.” ^ 
He paid the money, called in a coolie and bade him 
take up the chest and follow him, and they were soon 
at the house in the quiet .street. 

The box, which was a hospital medical chest, was 
filled with drugs of all kinds. Bathurst put a stick of 
caustic into a small phial and half filled one with a glass 
stopper with nitric acid, filling it up with water, and 
tried the effect of rubbing a few drops on his arm. 

“That is strong enough for anything,” he said with 
a slight exclamation at the sharp pain. “And now 
give me a piece of paper and pen and ink,” then sitting 
down, he wrote: 

My dear Miss Hann.a.y : — Rujub, the juggler, and .1 
will do what we can to rescue you. We are powerless to 
effect anything as long as you, remain where you are. The 
bearey Rujub*s daughter, will give you the bottles, .one 
containing lunar caustic, the other nitric acid. The mis- 
tress of the Zenana, who wants to get rid of you, as she 
fears you might obtain influence over the Nana, has asked 
the girl to obtain from her father a philter which will make 


TN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


327 


you odious to him. The large bottle is perfectly harmless, 
and you can drink its contents without fear. The caustic 
is for applying to your lips; it will be painful, but I am 
sure you will not mind that, and the injury will be only of 
a temporary nature. I cannot promise as much for the 
nitric acid; pray apply it very carefully, merely moistening 
the glass stopper and applying it with that. I should use 
it principally round the lips. It will burn and blister the 
skin. The Nana will be told that you have a fever which 
is causing a terrible and disfiguring eruption. I should ap- 
ply it also to the neck and hands. Pray be very careful 
with the stuff ; for, besides the application being exceed- 
ingly painful, the scars may possibly remain permanently. 
Keep the two small bottles carefully hidden in order to 
renew the application if absolutely necessary. At any 
rate, this will give us all time, and from what I hear our 
troops are likely to be here in another ten days’ time. 
You will be, I know, glad to hear that Wilson has also 
escaped. 

Yours, ^ R. Bathurst. 

A large bottle was now made up with elder-flower- 
water, and they drove back to Bithoor, which they 
reached before sunset. Rabda was punctual to her ap- 
pointment. 

“ I have seen her,” she said, “ and have given her the 
message. I could see that she understood it, but as 
there were other women round she made no sign. I 
told the mistress of the Zenana that you had given me 
some magic words that I was to whisper to her to pre- 
pare the way for the philter, so she let me in without 
difficulty, and I was allowed to go close up to her and 
whisper to her. I put my hands on her before I did 
so, and I think she felt that it was the touch of a friend. 
She flushed up when I spoke to her. The mistress, who 
was standing close by, thought that this was a sign of 
the power of the words I had spoken to her. I did not 
stay more than a minute. I was afraid she might try 
to speak to me in your tongue, and that would have 
been dangerous.” 

“There are the bottles,” Bathurst said ; “this large 
one is for her to take, the other two and this note are 
to be given to her separately. You had better tell the 


328 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


woman that the philter must be given by your own 
hands, and that you must then watch alone by her side 
for half an hour, and that after you leave her she will 
presently go off to sleep and must then be left absolutely 
alone till daybreak to-morrow, and that it will then be 
found that the philter has acted. Then she must tell 
the Nana that the lady is in a high fever, and has been 
seized with some terrible disease that has altogether 
disfigured her, and that he can see for himself the state 
she is in.” 

Rabda’s whisper had given new life and hope to Isobel 
Hannay. Previous to that her fate had seemed to her 
to be sealed, and she had only prayed for death ; the 
long strain of the siege had told upon her; the scene in 
the boat seemed a species of horrible nightmare, cul- 
minating in a number of Sepoys leaping on board the 
boat as it touched the bank, and bayoneting her uncle 
and all on board except herself, Mrs. Hunter, and her 
daughter, who were seized arid carried ashore. Then 
followed a night of dull despairing pain, while she and 
her companions crouched together, with two Sepoys 
standing on guard over them, while the others, after 
lighting fires, talked and laughed long into the night 
over the success of their attack. 

At daybreak they had been placed upon a limber 
and driven into Cawnpore. Her spirit had risen, as 
they were assailed by insults and imprecations by the 
roughs of the town, and she had borne up bravely till, 
upon their arrival at the entrance to what she supposed 
was the prison, she was roughly dragged from the 
limber, placed in a close carriage and driven off. In 
her despair she had endeavored to open the door in 
order to throw herself under the wheels, but a soldier 
stood on each step and prevented her from doing so. 

Outside of the town she soon saw that she was on the 
road to Bithoor, and the fate for which she was reserved 
flashed upon her. She remembered now the oily com- 
pliments of Nana Sahib, and the unpleasant thrill she 
had felt when his eyes were fixed upon her, and had 
she possessed a weapon of any kind she would have put 
an end to her life. But her pistol had been taken from 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


329 


her when she landed, and. in helpless despair she 
crouched in a corner of the carriage until they reached 
Bithoor. 

As soon as the carriage stopped a cloth was thrown 
over her head. She was lifted out and carried into the 
palace, through long passages and up stairs; then those 
who carried her set her on her feet and retired. Other 
hands took her and led her forward, till the cloth was 
taken off her head, and she found herself surrounded 
by women, who regarded her with glances of mixed 
curiosity and hostility. Then everything seemed to 
swim round, and for the first time in her life she fainted. 

When she recovered consciousness all strength 
seemed to have left her, and she lay in a sort of apathy 
for hours, taking listlessly the drink that was offered to 
her, but paying no attention to what was passing around, 
until there was a gentle pressure on her arm, the grasp 
tightening with a slight caressing motion that seemed 
to show sympathy; then came the English words softly 
whispered into her ear, while the hand again pressed 
her arm firmly, as if in warning. 

It was with difficulty that she refrained from uttering 
an exclamation and she felt the blood crimson her 
cheeks, but she mastered the impulse and lay perfectly 
quiet, glancing up into the face bent down close to hers. 
It was not familiar to her, and yet it seemed to her that 
she had seen it somewhere; another minute and it was 
gone. 

But though to all appearances Isobel’s attitude was 
unchanged, her mind was active now. Who could have 
sent her this message? Who could this native girl be 
who had spoken in English to her? Where had she 
seen the face? 

.Her thoughts travelled backward, and she ran over 
in her mind all those with whom she had come in con- 
tact since her arrival in India ; her servants and those 
of her acquaintances passed before her eyes. She had 
scarcely spoken to another native woman since she had 
landed. After thinking over all she had known in 
Cawnpore, she thought of Deennugghur; whom had 
she met there? 


330 JN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

vSiiddenly came the remembrance of the exhibition 
by the juggler, and she recalled the face and figure of 
his daughter, as, seated upon the growing pole, she had 
gone up foot by foot in the light of the lamps and up 
into the darkness above. The mystery was solved, that 
was the face that had just leaned over her. 

But how could she be interested in her fate? Then 
she remembered that this was the girl whom Bathurst 
had saved from the tiger. If they were interested in 
her, it must be through Bathurst. Could he too have 
survived the attack of the night before? She had 
thought of him, as of all of them, as dead, but possibly 
he might have escaped. She remembered now what 
she had not recalled before, that he had been sitting 
beside her when that terrible fire opened, and she had 
a vague idea that he had leaped overboard. She had 
no after remembrance of him ; perhaps he had swam to 
shore and got off in safety. In that case he must be 
lingering in Cawnpore, had learned what had become 
of her, and was trying to rescue her. It was to the 
juggler he would naturally have gone to obtain assist- 
ance. He was risking his life now to save hers, and 
this was the man whom she despised as a coward. 

But what could he do? At Bithoor, in the power of 
this treacherous Rajah, secure in the Zenana, where no 
man save its master ever penetrated, how could he pos- 
sibly help her? Yet the thought that he was trying to 
do so was a happy one, and the tears that flowed between 
her closed lids were not painful ones. The view which 
Bathurst himself took of his escape from the boat did 
not even occur to her. To have remained in the boat 
would have been certain death, while he could have 
been of no assistance to her or any one else. That he 
should escape, then, if he could, seemed to her a per- 
fectly natural action ; she hoped that some of the others 
had done the same and that Bathurst was not working 
alone. • 

It did not seem to her that there could be any possi- 
bility of the scheme for her rescue succeeding; as to 
that she felt no more hopeful than before, but it seemed 
to take away the sense of utter loneliness that she be- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


33^ 


fore felt that some one should be interesting himself 
in her fate. Perhaps there would be more than a mere 
verbal message next time. How long would it be before 
she heard again? How long a respite had she before 
that wretch came to see her? Doubtless he had heard 
that she was ill. She would remain so. She would 
starve herself. Her weakness seemed to her her best 
protection. 

As she lay apparently helpless upon the couch she 
watched the women move about the room. The girl 
who had spoken to her was not among them. The 
women were not unkind. They brought her cooling' 
drinks, and tried to tempt her to eat something; but 
she vShook her head as if utterly unable to do so, and 
after a time feigned to be asleep. 

Darkness came on gradually, some lamps were lighted 
in the room. Not for a moment had she been left alone 
since she was brought in — never less than two females 
remaining with her. 

Presently the woman who was evidently the chief of 
the establishment came in accompanied by a girl, whom 
Isobel recognized at once as the juggler’s daughter. 
The latter brought with her a tray on which were some 
cakes and a silver goblet. These she set down on an 
oak table by the couch. The girl then handed her the 
goblet, which, keeping up the appearance of extreme 
feebleness, she took languidly. She placed it to her 
lips, but at once took it away. It was not cool and re- 
freshing like those she had tasted before. It had but 
little flavor, but had a faint odor, which struck her as 
not unfamiliar. It was a drug of some sort they wished 
her to drink. 

vShe looked up in the girl’s face; Rabda made a re- 
assuring gesture, and said in a low whisper, as she bent 
forward, “ Bathurst, Sahib. ” 

This was sufficient ; whatever it was if would do her 
no. harm, and -she raised the cup to her lips and emptied 
it. Then the elder woman said something to the other 
two, and they all left the room together, leaving her 
alone with Rabda. 

The latter v/ent to the door quietly and drew the 


332 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


hangings across it, then she returned to the couch and 
from the folds of her dress produced two phials and a 
tiny note. Then, noiselessly, she placed a lamp on the 
table, and withdrew to a short distance while Isobel 
opened and read the note. 

Twice she read it through, and then, laying it down, 
burst into tears of relief. Rabda came and knelt down 
beside the couch, and taking one of her hands, pressed 
it to her lips. Isobel threw her arms round the girl’s 
neck, drew her close to her, and kissed her warmly. 

Rabda then drew a piece of paper and a pencil from 
her dress and handed them to her. She wrote : 

Thanks a thousand times, dear friend; I will follow 
your instructions. Please send me if you can some quick 
and deadly poison that I may take in the last extremity. 
Do not fear that I will flinch from applying the things ycu 
have sent me. I would not hesitate to swallow them were 
there no other hope of escape. I rejoice so much to know 
that you have escaped from that terrible attack last night. 
Did any others get away ? Do you know if they murdered 
my uncle and all the others in the boat, except Mrs. Hunter 
and Mary? Pray do not run any risks to try and rescue 
me. I think that I am safe now, and will make myself so 
hideous that if the wretch once sees me he will never want 
to see me again. As to death, I have no fear of it. If we 
do not meet again God bless you. 

Yours most gratefully, 

Isobel. 

Rabda concealed the note in her garment and then 
motioned to Isobel that she should close her eyes and 
pretend to be asleep. Then she gently drew back the 
curtains and seated herself at a distance from the couch. 

Half an hour later the mistress of the Zenana came 
in. Rabda rose and put her finger to her lips and left 
the room, accompanied by the woman. 

“She is asleep,” she said; “do not be afraid, the 
potion will do its work. Leave her alone all night. 
When she wakes in the morning she will be wild with 
fever, and you need have no fear that the Rajah will 
seek to make her the queen of his Zenana.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


333 


CHAPTER XX. 

Prepared as the mistress of the Zenana was to find a 
great change in the captive’s appearance, she was startled 
when, soon after daybreak, she went in to see her. The 
lower part of her face was greatly swollen, her lips 
were covered with white blotdies. There were great 
red scars round the mouth and on her forehead, and the 
skin seemed to have been completely eaten away. 
There were even larger and deeper marks on her neck 
and shoulders, which were partly uncovered, as if by 
her restless tossing. Her hands and arms were 
similarly marked. She took no notice of her entrance, 
but talked to herself as she tossed restlessly on the 
couch. 

There was but little acting in this, for Isobel was 
suffering an agony of pain. She had used the acid 
much more freely than she had been instructed to do, 
determined that the disfigurement should be complete. 
All night she had been in a state of high fever, and 
had for a time been almost delirious. She was btit 
slightly more easy now, and had difficulty in preventing 
herself from crying out from the torture she was suffer- 
ing. 

There was no tinge of pity in the face of the woman 
who looked at her, but a smile of satisfaction at the 
manner in which the potion had done its work. 

“The Nana can see her now,” she said to herself; 
“there will be no change in the arrangements here.” 

She at once sent out word that as soon as the Rajah 
was up he was to be told that she begged him to come 
at once. 

An hour later he came to the door of the Zenana. 

“What is it, Poomba?” he asked; “nothing the mat- 
ter with Miss Hannay, I hope?” 

“ T grieve to say, your Highness, that she has been 
seized with some terrible disease. I know not what it 
is, for never did I see a woman so smitten. It must be 
an illness contracted from confinement and bad air dur- 
ing the siege, some illness that the Europeans have, for 


334 


JN THK DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


never did I see aught like it. She is in a high state of 
fever, and her face is in a terrible state. It must be a 
sort of plague. ” 

“You have been poisoning her,” the Nana said 
roughly; “if so, beware, for your life shall be the for- 
feit. I will see her for myself.” 

“ She has had no poison since she came here, though 
I know not but what she may have had poison about 
her, and may have taken it after she was captured.” 

“Take me to her,” the Rajah said. “I will see for 
myself. ” 

“ It may be a contagious disease, your Highness. It 
were best that you should not go near her. ” 

The Rajah made an impatient gesture, and the wo- 
man, without another word, led him into the room where 
Isobel was lying. The Nana was prepared for some 
disfigurement of the face he had so admired, but he 
shrank back from the reality. 

“ It is horrible,” he said in a low voice. “ What have 
)^ou been doing to her?” he asked, turning furiously to 
the woman. 

“ I have done nothing, your Highness. All day 
yesterday she lay in a torpor, as I told you in the even- 
ing, when you inquired about her, and I thought then 
she was going to be ill. I have watched her all night. 
She has been restless and disturbed, but I thought it 
better not to go nearer lest I should wake her, and it 
was not until this morning, when the day broke, that I 
perceived this terrible change. What shall we do with 
her? If the disease is contagious every one in the 
palace may catch it. ” 

“ Have a closed palanquin brought to the door, wrap 
her up and have her carried down to the Subada Ke 
Kothee. Let her give it to the women there. Burn 
all the things in this room and everything that has been 
worn by those who have entered it. I will inquire 
into this matter later on, and those I find have had a 
hand in any foul play shall wish that they had never 
been born.” 

As soon as he had left the woman called Rabda in. 

“All has gone well,” she said, “your father’s philter 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


335 

is powerful indeed. Tell him whenever he needs a 
service he has but to ask it of me. Look at her ; did 
you ever see one so disfigured? The Rajah has seen 
her and is filled with loathing. She is to be sent to the 
Subada Ke Kothee. Are you sure that the malady is 
not contagious? I have persuaded the Rajah that it is ; 
that is why he is sending her away. ” 

“ I am sure it is not,” Rabda said, “ it is the result of 
the drugs. It is terrible to see her; give me some oint- 
ment.” 

“ What does it matter about her now that she is harm- 
less?” Poomba said scornfully. Being however desir- 
ous of pleasing Rabda, she went away and brought a 
pot of ointment, which the girl applied to the sores, 
the tears falling down her cheeks as she did so. 

The salve at once afforded relief from the burning 
pain, and Isobel gratefully took a drink prepared from 
fresh limes. 

She had only removed her gown when she had lain 
down, having done this in order that it should not be 
burnt by the acid, and that her neck and shoulders 
might be seen and the belief induced that this strange 
eruption was all over her. Rabda made signs for her 
to put it on again, and pointing in the direction of 
Cawnpore repeated the word several times, and Isobel 
felt with a thrill of intense thankfulness that the 
stratagem had succeeded and that she was to be sent 
away at once, probably to the place where the other 
prisoners were confined. Presently the woman re- 
turned. 

“ Rabda, you had best go with her. It were well 
that you should leave for the present. The Rajah is 
suspicious ; he may come back again and ask questions, 
and as he knows you by sight, and as you told me your 
father was in disfavor with him at present, he might 
suspect that you were in some way concerned in the 
matter. ” 

“ I will go, ” Rabda said. “ I am sorry she has suffered 
so much. I did not think the potion would have been 
so strong. Give me a. netful of fresh limes and some 
cooling lotion, that I may leave with her there.” 


336 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

In a few minutes a woman came up to say that the 
palanquin was in readiness at the gate of the Zenana 
garden. A large cushion was taken off a divan, and 
Isobel was laid upon it and covered with a light shawl. 
Six of the female attendants lifted it and carried it 
downstairs, accompanied b)- Rabda and the mistress of 
the Zenana, both closely veiled. Outside the gate was 
a large palanquin, with its bearers and four soldiers 
and an officer. The cushion was lifted and placed in 
the palanquin, and Rabda also took her place there. 

“Then you will not return to-day,” the woman said 
to her in a voice loud enough to be heard by the officers. 
“You will remain with her for a time, and afterward 
go to see your friends in the town. I will send for you 
when I hear that you wish to return.” 

The curtains of the palanquin were drawn down; the 
bearers lifted it and started at once for Cawnpore. 

On arrival at the large building known as the vSubada 
Ke Kothee, the gates were opened at once at the order 
of the Nana’s officer, and the palanquin was carried 
across the courtyard to the door of the building which 
was used as a prison for the white women and children. 
It was taken into the great arched room and set down. 
Rabda stepped out, and the bearers lifted out the 
cushion upon which Isobel lay. 

“You will not be wanted any more,” Rabda said, in 
a tone of authority. “You can return to Bithoor at 
once.” 

As the door closed behind them several of the ladies 
came round to see this fresh arrival. Rabda looked 
round till her eye fell upon Mrs. Hunter, who was oc- 
cupied in trying to hush a fractious child. She put her 
hand on her arm and motioned to her to come along. 
Surprised at the summons, Mrs. Hunter followed her; 
when they reached the cushion Rabda lifted the shawl 
from Tsobel’s face. For a moment Mrs. Hunter failed 
to recognize her, but as Isobel opened her eyes and held 
out her hand she knew her, and with a cry of pity she 
dropped on her knees beside her. 

“ My poor child, what have these fiends been doing 
to you?” 


m tHE davs of the mutiny. 


337 


“ They have been doing nothing, Mrs. Hunter,” she 
whispered. “ I am not so bad as I seem, though I have 
suffered a great deal of pain. I was carried away to 
Bithoor, to Nana Sahib’s Zenana, and I have burnt my 
face with caustic and acid, and they think I have some 
terrible disease, and have sent me here.” 

“ Bravely done, girl ! Bravely and nobly done ! We 
had best keep the secret to ourselves, there are con- 
stantly men looking through the bars of the window, 
and some of them may understand English.” 

Then she looked up and said : “ It is Miss Hannay, 
she was captured with us in the boats ; please help me 
to carry her over to the wall there, and my daughter 
and 1 will nurse her; it looks as if she had been terribly 
burnt, somehow.” 

Many of the ladies had met Isobel in the happy days 
before the troubles began, and great was the pity ex- 
pressed for her appearance. She was carried to the 
side of the wall, where Mary and Mrs. Hunter at once 
made her as comfortable as they could. Rabda, who 
had now thrown back her veil, produced from under 
her dress the net containing some fifty small limes, and 
handed to Mrs. Hunter the pot of ointment and the 
lotion. 

“She has saved me,” Isobel said; “it is the daughter 
of the juggler who performed at your house, Mrs. 
Hunter. Do thank her for me, and tell her how grateful 
I am.” 

Mrs. Hunter took Rabda’s hand, and in her own 
language thanked her for her kindness to Isobel. 

“I have done as I was told,” Rabda said simply; 
“ the Sahib Bathurst saved my life, and when he said 
the lady must be rescued from the hands of the Nana, 
it was only right that I should do so even to the price 
of my life.” 

“So Bathurst has escaped,” Mrs. Hunter said, turn- 
ing to Isobel. “I am glad of that, ^ dear, I was afraid 
that all were gone. ” 

“ Yes, I had a note from him ; it is by his means that 
I got away from Bithoor. He sent me the caustic and 
acid to burn my face. He told me Mr. Wilson had also 


338 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

escaped, and perhaps some others may have got away, 
though he did not seem to know it.” 

“ But surely there could be no occasion to burn your- 
self as badly as you have done, Isobel. ” 

“ I am afraid I did put on too much acid,” she said; 
“ I was so afraid of not burning it enough, but it does 
not matter, it does not pain me nearly so much since I 
put on that ointment ; it will soon get well. ” 

Mrs. Hunter shook her head regretfully. 

“ I am afraid it will leave marks for a long time. ” 

“That is of no consequence at all, Mrs. Hunter; I 
am so thankful at being here with you that I should 
mind very little if I knew that it was always to be as 
bad as it is now. What does it matter?” 

“ It does not matter at all at present, my dear; but if 
you ever get out of this horrible place, some day you 
may think differently about it.” 

“I must go now,” Rabda said. “Has the lady any 
message to send to the Sahib?” and she again handed 
a paper and pencil to Isobel. 

The girl took them and hesitated a little before 
writing: 

Thank God, you have saved me. Some day, perhaps, 
I may be able to tell you how grateful I am ; but, if not, 
you will know that if the worst happens to us, I shall die 
blessing you for what you have done for me. Pray do not 
linger longer in Cawnpore. You may be discovered, and 
if I am spared it would embitter my life always to know 
that it had cost you yours. God bless you always. 

Yours gratefully, Isobel. 

She folded up the paper and gave it to Rabda, who 
took her hand and kissed it ; and then drawing her veil 
again over her face went to the door, which stood for 
a moment open. 

Some men were bringing in a large cauldron of rice. 
The sentries offered no opposition to her passing out, as 
the officer with the* palanquin had told them that a lady 
of the Rajah’s Zenana would' leave shortly. A similar 
message had been given to the officer at the main gate, 
who, however, requested to see her hand and arm to 


ll'J THE DAYS OP MDTtNV. 


339 

satisfy him that all was right. This was sufficient to 
assure him that it was not a white woman passing out 
in disguise, and Rabda at once proceeded to her father’s 
house. 

As she expected he and Bathurst were away, for she 
had arranged to meet them at eight o’clock in the 
garden. They did not* return until eleven, having 
waited two hours for her, and returning home in much 
anxiety at her non-appearance. 

What has happened? Why did you not meet us, 
Rabda?” her father exclaimed, as he entered. 

Rabda rapidly repeated the incidents that had hap- 
pened since she had parted from him the evening be- 
fore, and handed to Bathurst the two notes she had re- 
ceived from Isobel. 

“ Then she is in safety with the others,” he exclaimed 
in delight. “ Thank God for that, and thank you, 
Rabda, indeed, for what you have done.” 

“ My life is my lord’s, ” the girl said quietly. “ What 
I have done is nothing. ” 

“ If we had but known, Rujub, that she would be 
moved at once, we might have rescued heron the way.” 

Rujub shook his head. 

“ There are far too many people along the road. Sahib ; 
it could not have been done. But, of course, there was 
no knowing, as she was sent off directly after the Nana 
had seen her. ” 

“Is she much disfigured, Rabda?” Bathurst asked. 

“Dreadfully,” the girl said sorrowfully. “The acid 
must have been too strong. ” 

“ It was strong, no doubt,” Bathurst said, “ but if she 
had put it on as I instructed her, it could only have 
burned the surface of the skin.” 

“ It has burned her dreadfully. Sahib ; even I should 
hardly have known her. She must be brave indeed to 
have done it. She must have suffered dreadfully, but I 
obtained some ointment for her and she was better when 
I left her. She is with the wife of the Sahib Hunter.” 

“Now, Rabda, see if thb meal is prepared,” Rujub 
said. “We are both hungry and you can have eaten 
nothing this morning.” 


346 IK THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

He then left the room, leaving Bathurst to read his 
letters, which he still held in his hand, feeling that they 
were too precious to be looked at until he was alone. 

It was some time before Rabda brought in his break- 
fast, and, glancing at him, she saw how deeply he had 
been moved by the letters. She went up to him and 
placed her hand on his shoulder. 

“We will get her for you, Sahib. We have been 
successful so far, be assured that we shall succeed again. 
What we have done is more difficult than what we have 
to do. It is easier to get twenty prisoners from a jail 
than one from a Rajah’s Zenana.” 

“ That is true enough, Rabda. At the moment I was 
not thinking of that, but of other things.” 

He longed for sympathy, but the girl would not have 
understood him had he told her his feelings. To her 
he was a hero, and it would have seemed to her folly 
had he said that he felt himself altogether unworth}?’ of 
Isobel Hannay. After he had finished his breakfast 
Rujub again came in. 

“What does the Sahib intend to do now?” he asked. 

“ As far as I can see there is nothing to do at present, 
Rujub,” he said. “ When the white troops come up she 
will be delivered.” 

“ Then will my lord go down to Allahabad?” 

“ Certainly not. There is no saying what may hap- 
pen.” 

“That is so,” Rujub agreed. “The white women 
are safe at present, but if, as the Sahib thinks, the 
white soldiers should beat the troops of the Nana, who 
can say what will happen? The people will be wild 
with rage, the Nana will be furious — he is a tiger who, 
having once laid his paw on a victim, will not allow it 
to be torn from him.” 

“He can never allow them to be injured,” Bathurst 
said. “ It is possible that as our troops advance he may 
carry them all off as hostages, and by the threat of 
killing them may make terms for his own life, but he 
would never venture to carry out his threats. You 
think he would?” he asked. 

Rujub remained silent. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 34I 

“I think SO, Sahib; the Nana is an ambitious man; 
he had wealth and everything most men would desire 
to make life happy; but he wanted more: he thought 
that when the British Raj was destroyed he would rule 
over the territories of the Peishwa, and be one of the 
greatest rulers of the land. He has staked everything 
i on that; if he loses he has lost all. He knows that 
after the breach of his oath and the massacre here, 
there is no pardon for him. He is a tiger — and a 
wounded tiger is most dangerous. If he is, as you be- 
lieve he will be, defeated, I believe his one thought 
will be of revenge. Every day brings news of fresh 
risings. Scindia’s army will join us; Holkar’s will 
probably follow. All Oude is rising in arms. A large 
army is gathering at Delhi. Even if the Nana is 
defeated here all will not be lost. He has twenty 
thousand men ; there are well-nigh two hundred thou- 
sand in arms round Lucknow alone. My belief is that 
if beaten his first thought will be to take revenge at 
once on the Feringees, and to make his name terrible, 
and that he will then go off with his army to Lucknow 
or Delhi, where he would be received as one who has 
dared more than all others to defy the whites, who has 
no hope of pardon, and can therefore be relied upon 
above all others to fight to the last. ” 

“ It may be so, Rujub, though I can scarce believe 
that there exists a monster who would give orders for 
the murder of hundreds of women and children in cold 
blood; but, at any rate, I will remain on watch. We 
will decide upon what will be the best plan to rescue 
her from the prison, if we hear that evil is intended ; 
but, if not, I can remain patiently until our troops arrive. 
I know the Subada Ke Kothee : it is, if I remember right, 
a large quadrangle with no windows on the outside.” 

“That is so. Sahib; it is a strong place, and difficult 
indeed to get into or out of. There is only the main 
gate, which is guarded at night by two sentries outside, 
and there is doubtless a strong guard within.” 

“ I would learn whether the same regiment always 
furnishes the guard; if so, it might be possible to bribe 
them,” 


342 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ I am afraid it would be too dangerous to try. There 
are scores of men in Cawnpore who would cut a throat 
for a rupee, but when it comes to breaking open a 
prison, to carry off one of these white women whom 
they hate, it would be too dangerous to try. ” 

“ Could you not do something with your art, Rujub?” 
“ If there were only the outside sentries it would be 
easy enough. Sahib. I could send them to sleep with 
a wave of my hand, but I could not affect the men in- 
side, whom I do not know even by sight. Besides, in 
addition to the soldiers who guard the gate, there will 
be the men who have been told off to look after the 
prisoners. It will require a great deal of thinking over, 
Sahib, but I believe we shall manage it. I shall go 
to-morrow to Bithoor and show myself boldly to the 
Nana. He knows that I have done good service to him, 
and his anger will have cooled down by this time, and 
he will listen to what I have to say. It will be useful 
to us for me ^o be able to go in and out of the palace 
at will, and so learn the first news from those about 
him. It is most important that we should know if he 
has evil intentions toward the captives, so that we may 
have time to carry on our plans. ” 

“Very well, Rujub. You do not expect me to re- 
main in-doors, I hope, for I should wear myself out if J 
were obliged to wait here doing nothing. ” 

“No, Sahib; it will be perfectly safe for you to go 
about just as you are, and I can get you any other dis- 
guise you like. You would gather what is said in the 
town, can listen to the Sepoys, and examine the Subada 
Ke Kothee. If you like I will go there with you now. 
My daughter shall come with us; she may be useful, 
and will be glad to be doing something.” 

They went out from th§ city toward the prison house, 
which stood in an open space where there were several 
other buildings, some of them surrounded with gardens 
and walls. 

The Subada Ke Kothee was a large building, form- 
ing three sides of a square, a strong high wall forming 
the fourth side. It was low, with a flat roof. There 
were no windows or openings in the outside wall, the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


343 


chambers all facing the courtyard. Two sentries were 
at the gate. They were in the red Sepoy uniform, and 
Bathurst saw at once how much the bonds of discipline 
had^ been relaxed. Both had leaned their muskets 
against the wall, one was squatted on the ground beside 
his fire-arm, and the other was talking with two or three 
natives of his acquaintance. The gates were closed. 

As they watched a native officer came up. He stood 
for a minute talking with the soldiers. By his gesticu- 
lations it could be seen he was exceedingly angry, and 
the men took their muskets and began to walk up and 
down. Then the officer knocked at the gate. Instead 
of its being opened a man appeared at a loop-hole in the 
gate tower, and the officer handed to him a paper. A 
minute later the gate was opened sufficiently for him 
to pass in, and was then closed behind him. 

“They are evidently pretty strict,” Bathurst said. 
“ I don’t think, Rujub, there is much chance of our 
doing anything there.” 

Rujub shook his head. “ No, Sahib, it is clear they 
have strict orders about opening and shutting the gate.” 

“ It would not be very difficult to scale the wall of 
the house,” Bathurst said, “with a rope and a hook at 
its end ; but that is only the first step. The real dif- 
ficulty lies in getting the prison room open in the first 
place — for no doubt they are locked up at night — and 
in the second getting her out of it and the building.” 

“ You could lower her down from the top of the wall, 
Sahib.” 

“ Yes, if one could get her out of the room they are 
confined in without making the slightest stir, but it is 
almost too much to hope that one could be able to do 
that. These men in charge of them are likely to keep 
a close watch, for they know that their heads would pay 
for any captive they allowed to escape.” 

“I don’t think they will watch much. Sahib; they 
will not believe that any of the women, broken down 
as they must be by trouble, would attempt such a thing, 
for even if they got out of the prison itself and then 
made their escape from the building, they would be 
caught before they could go far.” 


344 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“Where does the prison-house lie, Rabda?” Bathurst 
asked 

“ It is on the left-hand side as you enter the gate; it 
is the farthest door. Along that side most of the build- 
ings — which have been used for storehouses, I should 
say, or perhaps for the guards when the place was a 
palace — have two floors one above the other. But this 
is a large vaulted room extending from the ground to 
the roof ; it has windows with iron gratings ; the door 
is very strong and heavy. ” 

“And now. Sahib, we can do nothing more,” Rujub 
said. “ I will return home with Rabda, and then go 
over to Bithoor. ” 

“ Very well, Rujub, I will stay here, and hear what 
people are talking about.” 

There were indeed a considerable number of people 
near the building: the fact that the white prisoners 
were all there seemed to exercise a fascination, and 
even women brought their children and sat on the 
banks which marked where gardens had once been and 
talked of the white captives. Bathurst strolled about 
among the groups of Sepoys and towns-people. The 
former talked in loud tones of the little force that had 
already started from Allahabad, and boasted how easily 
they would eat up the Feringees. It seemed, however, 
to Bathurst that a good deal of this braggadacio was 
assumed and that among some, at least, there was an 
undercurrent of doubt and uneasiness, though they 
talked as loudly and boldly as their companions. 

The towns-people were of two classes ; there were the 
budmashes or roughs of the place, who uttered brutal 
and ferocious jokes as to the probable fate of the white 
women. There were others who kept in groups apart 
and talked in low voices. These were the traders, to 
whom the events that had taken place foreboded ruin. 
Already most of the shops had been sacked, and many 
of the principal inhabitants murdered by the mob. 
Those who had so far escaped, thanks in some instances 
to the protection afforded them by Sepoy officers, saw 
that their trade was ruined, their best customers killed, 
and themselves virtually at the mercy of the mob, who 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


345 


might again break out upon the occasion of any excite- 
ment. These were silent when Bathurst approached 
them. His attire, and his arms so ostentatiously dis- 
played in his sash, marked him as one of the dangerous 
class, perhaps a prisoner from the jail whose doors had 
been thrown open on the first night of the Sepoy rising. 

For hours Bathurst remained in the neighborhood of 
the prison. The sun set, and the night came on. Then 
a small party of soldiers came up and relieved the 
sentries. This time the number of the sentries at the 
gate was doubled, and three men were posted one on 
each of the other sides of the building. After seeing 
this done he returned to the house. After he had 
finished his evening meal Rujub and Rabda came into 
the room. 

“ Now, Sahib,” the former said, “ I think that we can 
tell you how the lady is. Rabda has seen her, and 
spoken to her, and touched her; there is sympathy be- 
tween them.” He seated Rabda in a chair, placed his 
hand on her forehead, and then drew the tips of his 
fingers several times slowly down her face. Her eyes 
closed. He took up her hand, and let it fall again. It 
was limp and impassive. Then he said authoritatively, 
“ Go to the prison.” He paused a moment. 

“Are you there?” 

•“ I am there,” she said. 

“ Are you in the room where the ladies are?” 

“ I am there,” she repeated. 

“ Do you see the lady Hannay?” 

“ I see her.” 

“ How is she?” 

“ She is lying quiet. The other young lady is sitting 
beside her. The lower part of her face is bandaged up, 
but I can see that she is not suffering as she was this 
morning. She looks quiet and happy.” 

“ Try and speak to her. Say ‘Keep up your courage, 
we are doing what we can.’ Speak, I order you.” 

“ I have spoken.” 

“ Did she hear you.” 

“Yes. She has raised herself on her arm; she is 
looking round ; she h^s asked the other young lady if 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


346 

she heard anything. The other shakes her head. She 
heard my words, but does not understand them.” 

Rujub looked at Bathurst, who, mechanically, re- 
peated the message in English. 

“Speak to her again. Tell her these words,” and 
Rujub repeated the message in English. 

“ Does she hear you?” 

“ She hears me. She has clasped her hands, and is 
looking round bewildered. ” 

“ That will do. Now go outside into the yard ; what 
do you see there?” 

“ I see eight men sitting round a fire. One gets up 
and walks to one of the grated windows, and looks in 
at the prisoners.” 

“ Is the door locked?” 

“ It is locked.” 

“Where is the key?” 

She was silent for some time. 

“ Where is the key?” he repeated. 

“ In the lock,” she said. 

“ How many soldiers are there in the guard-room by 
the gate?” 

“ There are no soldiers there. There are ati officer 
and four men outside, but none inside.” 

“ That will do,” and he passed his hand lightly across 
her forehead. 

“ Is it all true?” Bathurst asked, as the juggler turned . 
to him. 

“ Assuredly it is true. Sahib. Had I had my daughter 
with me at Deennugghur, I could have sent you a mes- 
sage as easily ; as it was I had to trust only to the power 
of my mind upon yours. The information is of use. 
Sahib.” 

“ It is indeed ; it is a great thing to know that the key 
is left in the lock, and also that at night there are the 
prison keepers only inside the building. ” 

“ Does she know what she has been doing?” he asked, 
as Rabda languidly rose from her chair. 

“ No, Sahib, she knows nothing after she has re- 
covered from these trances.” 

“ I will watch to-morrow night,” Bathurst said, '‘ami 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


347 


see at what hour the sentries are relieved. ^ It is evident 
that the Sepoys are not trusted to enter the prison, 
which is left entirely to the warders, the outside posts 
being furnished by some regiment in the lines. It is 
important to know the exact hour at which the changes 
are made, and perhaps you could find out to-morrow, 
Rujub, who these warders are; whether they are per- 
manently on duty or are relieved once a day.'’ 

“ I will do that, Sahib ; if they are changed we may 
be able to get at some of them.” 

“ I have no money,” Bathurst said; “but ” 

“ I have money, Sahib, and if they can be bribed 
will do it; our caste is a rich one. We sometimes re- 
ceive large presents, and we are everywhere made wel- 
come. We have little need of money. I am wealthy 
and practise my art more because I love it than for 
gain. There are few in the land that know the secrets 
that I do. Men die without having sons to pass down 
their knowledge; thus it is the number of those who 
possess the secrets of the Ancients grow smaller every 
day. There are hundreds of jugglers, but very few who 
•know, as I do, the secrets of nature, and can control 
the spirits of the air. Did I need greater wealth than 
I have, Rabda could discover for me all the hidden 
treasures of India, and I could obtain them guarded 
though they may be by djins and evil spirits.” 

“ Have you a son to come after you, Rujub?” 

“ Yes, he is travelling in Persia, to confer with one 
or two of the great ones there, who still possess the 
knowledge of the ancient magicians.” 

“ By the way, Rujub, I have not asked you how you 
got on with the Nana.” 

“It was easy enough,” the juggler said. “ He had 
lost all interest in the affairs of Deennugghur, and 
greeted me at first as if I had just returned from a jour- 
ney. Then he remembered, and asked me suddenly 
why I had disobeyed his orders and given my voice for 
terms being granted to the Feringees. I said that I 
had obeyed his orders; I understood that what he prin- 
cipally desired was to have the women here as prisoners, 
and that had the siege continued the Feringees would 


348 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

have blown themselves into the air. Therefore the 
only plan was to make terms with them, which would 
in fact place them all in his power, as he would not be 
bound by the conditions granted by the Oude men. He 
was satisfied, and said no more about it, and I am re- 
stored to my position in his favor. Henceforth we 
shall not have to trust to the gossip of the bazaars, but 
I shall know what news is received and what is going 
to be done. 

“ Your people at Delhi have beaten back the Sepoys 
several times, and at Lucknow they resist stoutly. The 
Nana is very angry that the place has not been taken, 
but from what I hear the entrenchments there are much 
stronger than they were here, and even here they were 
not taken by the sword, but because the whites had no 
shelter from the guns, and could not go to the well 
without exposing themselves to fire. At Lucknow they 
have some strong houses in the entrenchments and no 
want for anything, so they can only be captured by 
fighting. Every one says they cannot hold out many 
days longer, but that I do not know. It does not seem 
to me that there is any hope of rescue for them, for 
even if, as you think, the white troops should beat Nana 
Sahib’s men, they never could force their way through 
the streets of Lucknow to the entrenchments there.” 

“We shall see, Rujub. Deennugghur was defended 
by a mere handful, and at Lucknow they have half a 
regiment of white soldiers. They may, for anything I 
know, have to yield to starvation, but I doubt whether 
the mutineers and Oude men, however numerous they 
may be, will carr)^ the place by assault. Is there any 
news elsewhere?” 

“ None, Sahib, save that the Feringees are bringing 
down regiments from the Punjaub to aid those at Delhi. ” 

“ The tide is beginning to turn, Rujub ; the mutineers 
have done their worst and have failed to overthrow the 
English Raj. Now you will see that every day they 
will lose ground. Fresh troops will pour up the coun- 
try, and step by step the mutiny will be crushed out ; 
it is a question of time only. If you could call up a 
picture on smoke of what will bo happening a year 


IN tut: DAVS OP THE MUTINY. 349 

hence, you would see the British triumphant every- 
where." 

“ I cannot do that, Sahib, I do not know what would 
appear on the smoke, and were I to try misfortune would 
surely come upon me. When a picture of the past is 
shown on the smoke, it is not a past I know of, but 
which one of those present knows. I cannot say even 
which among them may know it ; it is always one that 
has made a strong impression in the mind, but more 
than that I do not know. As to those of the future, I 
know even less; it is the work of the power of the air 
whose name I whisper to myself when I pour out the 
incense, and to whom I pray. It is seldom that I show 
these pictures, he gets angry if called upon too often. 
I never do it unless I feel that he is propitious. " 

“ It is beyond me altogether, Rujub. I can under- 
stand your power of sending messages, and of your 
daughter seeing at a distance. I have heard of such 
things at home, they are called mesmerism and clair- 
voyance. It is an obscure art ; but that some men do 
possess the power of influencing others at a distance 
seems to be undoubted ; still it is certainly never carried 
to such perfection as I see it in your case. " 

“ It could not be," Rujub said; “white men eat too 
much, and it needs long fasting and mortification to fit 
a man to become a mystic; the spirit gains power as 
the body weakens. The Feringees can make arms that 
shoot long distances, and carriages that travel faster 
than the fastest horse, and great ships and machines. 
They can do many great and useful things, but they 
cannot do the things that have been done for thousands 
of years in the East. They are tied too fast to the 
earth to have aught to do with the spirits that dwell 
here. A learned Brahmin, who had studied your 
holy books, told me that your great teacher said that if 
you had faith you could move mountains. We could 
well-nigh do that if it were of use to mankind; but 
were we to do so merely to show our power we should 
be struck dead. It is wrong even to tell you th^e 
things; I must say no more." 

Four days passed. Rujub went every day for some 


IN THEl t)AYS OF THF MOTINY. 




hours to Bithoor, and told Bathurst that he heard that 
the British force, of about fourteen hundred whites and 
five hundred Sikhs, was pushing forward rapidly, mak- 
ing double marches each day. 

“The first fight will be near Futtehpore,” he said. 

“ There are fifteen hundred Sepoys, as many Oude tribes- 
men, and five hundred cavalry with twelve guns, and 
they are in a very strong position, which the British 
can only reach by passing along a road through a 
swamp. It is a position that the officers say a thou- 
sand men could hold against ten thousand. ” 

“You will see that it will not delay our troops an 
hour,” Bathurst said. “Do they imagine they are go- 
ing to beat us, when the numbers are but two to one in 
their favor? If so, they will soon learn that they are 
mistaken.” 

The next afternoon when Rujub returned he said: • 
“You were right, Sahib; your people took'^uttehpore^^ 
after only half an hour’s fighting. The accounts say 
that the Feringees came on like demons, and that they 
did not seem to mind our firing in the slightest. The 
Nana is furious, but they still feel confident that they 
will succeed in stopping the Feringees at Dong. They 
lost their twelve guns at Futtehpore, but they have two 
heavy ones at the tPando(T.- bridge, which sweep the 
straight road leading to it for a mile; and the bridge 
has been mined, and will be blown up if the Feringees 
reach it. But, nevertheless, the Nana swears that he 
will be revenged on the captives. If 37-ou are to rescue 
the lady it must be done to-night, for to-morrow it may 
be too late.” 

“You surely do not think he will give orders for the 
murder of the women and children?” 

“ I fear he will do so,” Rujub answered gloomily. 

Each day Bathurst had learned in the same manner 
as before what was doing in the prison. Isobel was no 
longer being nursed ; she was assisting to nurse Mary 
Hunter, who had, the day after she was transferred to 
th Imprison, been attacked by fever, and was the next 
da^delirious. Rabda’s report of the next two days 
left little doubt in Bathurst’s mind that she was rapidly 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 35 1 

sinking. All the prisoners suffered greatly from the 
close confinement; many had died, and the girl’s de- 
scription of the scenes she witnessed was often inter- 
rupted by her sobs and tears. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

While Bathurst was busying himself completing his 
preparations for the attempt, Rabda came in with her 
father. 

“My lord,” she said, “I tremble at the thought of 
your venturing your life. My life is of no importance, 
and it belongs to you. What I would propose is this. 
My father will go to Bithoor, and will obtain an order 
from one of the Nana’s officers for a lady of the Zenana 
to visit the prisoners. I will go in veiled, as I was on 
the day I went there. I will change garments with the 
lady, and she can come out veiled and meet you outside. ” 

“ I would not dream of such a thing, Rabda. You 
would be killed to a certainty when they discovered 
the trick. Even if I would consent to the sacrifice. 
Miss Hannay would not do so. I am deeply grateful 
to you for proposing it, but it is impossible. You will 
see that with the aid of your father I shall succeed.’’ 

“ I told her that would be your answer. Sahib,’’ Rujub 
said, “ but she insisted on making the offer.’’ 

It was arranged that they were to start at nine o’clock, 
as it was safer to make the attempt before everything 
became quiet. Before starting Rabda was again placed 
in a trance. In reply to her father’s questions, she 
said that Mary Hunter was dead, and that Isobel was 
lying down. She was told to tell her that in an hour 
she was to be at the window next to the door. 

Rujub had found that the men inside the prison were 
those who had been employed as warders at the jail 
before the troubles began, and he had procured for 
Bathurst a dress similar to that which they wore, which 
was a sort of uniform. He had offered, if the attempt 
was successful, to conceal Isobel in his house until the 


352 IN tHE t)AVS OF T«E MUTINY. 

troops reached Cawnpore, but Bathurst preferred to take 
her down the country, upon the ground that every 
house might be searched, and that possibly before the 
British entered the town there might be a general sack 
of the place by the mob, and even if this did not take 
place there might be desperate house-to-house fighting 
when the troops arrived. Rujub acknowledged the 
danger, and said that he and his daughter would ac- 
company them on their way down country, as it would 
greatly lessen their risk if two of the party were really 
natives. Bathurst gratefully accepted the offer, as it 
would make the journey far more tolerable for Isobel 
if she had Rabda with her. 

She was to wait a short distance from the prison 
while Bathurst made the attempt, and w^as left in a 
clump of bushes two or three hundred yards away from 
the prison. Rujub accompanied Bathurst. They went 
along quietly until within fifty yards of the sentry in 
the rear of the house, and then stopped. The man was 
walking briskly up and down. Rujub stretched out his 
arms in front of him with the fingers extended. Bath- 
urst, who had taken his place behind him, saw his 
muscles stiffen, while there was a tremulous motion of 
his fingers. In a minute or two the sentry’s walk be- 
came slower. In a little time it ceased altogether and 
he leaned against the wall as if drowsy; then he slid 
down in a sitting position, his musket falling to the 
ground. 

“You can come along now,’’ Rujub said; “he is fast 
asleep and there is no fear of his waking. He will 
sleep till I bid him wake. ’’ 

They at once moved forward to the wall of the house. 
Bathurst threw up a knotted rope to which a large 
hook, round which flannel had been wrapped to prevent 
noise, was attached. After three or four attempts it 
caught on the parapet. Bathurst at once climbed up. 
As soon as he had gained the flat terrace, Rujub followed 
him ; they then pulled up the rope, to the lower end of 
which a rope-ladder was attached, and fastened this 
securely ; then they went to the inner side of the terrace 
and looked down at the courtyard. Two men were 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


353 


Standing at one of the grated windows of the prison 
room, apparently looking in, six others were seated 
round a fire in the centre of the court. 

^ Bathurst was about to turn away when Rujub touched 
him and pointed to the two men at the window, and 
then stretched out his arms toward them ; presently 
they turned and left the window, and in a leisurely way 
walked across the court and entered a room where a 
light was burning close to the gate. For two or three 
minutes Rujub stood in the same position, then his arms 
dropped. 

‘■‘They have gone into the guard-room to sleep,” he 
said ; “ there are two less to trouble you. ” 

Then he turned toward the group of men by the fire 
and fixed his gaze upon them. In a short time one of 
them wrapped himself in his cloth and lay down. In 
five minutes two others had followed his example. 
Another ten minutes passed, and then Rujub turned to 
Bathurst and said, “ I cannot affect the other three, we 
cannot influence every one.” 

“That will do, Rujub, it is my turn now.” 

After a short search they found stairs leading down 
from the terrace, and after passing through some empty 
rooms reached a door leading into the courtyard. 

“Do you stay, Rujub,” Bathurst said. “They will 
take me for one of themselves. If I succeed without 
noise, I shall come this way; if not, I will go out 
through the gate, and you had best go by the way we 
came.” 

The door was standing open, and Bathurst, grasping 
a heavy tulwar, went out into the court-yard. Keep- 
ing close to the house, he sauntered along until he 
reached the grated windows of the prison room. Three 
lamps were burning within, to enable the guard outside 
to watch the prisoners. He passed the two first 
windows; at the third a figure was standing. She 
shrank back, as Bathurst stopped before it. 

“ It is I, Miss Hanna)^ — Bathurst. Danger threatens 
you and you must escape at once. Rabda is waiting 
for you outside. Please go to the door and stand there 
until I open it. I have no doubt that I shall succeed, 

23 


354 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


but if anything should go wrong, go and lie down again 
at once.” 

Without waiting for an answer he moved toward the 
fire. 

“Is that you, Ahmed?” one of the warders said. 
“ We all seem sleepy this evening, there is something 
in the air; I felt half inclined to go off myself.” 

“ It is very hot to-night,” Bathurst replied. 

There was something in his voice unfamiliar to the 
man, and with an exclamation, “Who is it?” he sprang 
to his feet, but Bathurst was now but three paces away, 
and with a bound was upon him, bringing the tulwar 
down with such force upon his head that the man fell 
lifeless without a groan. The other two leaped up with 
shouts of “ Treachery, ” but Bathurst w*as upon them and, 
aided by the surprise, cut both down after a sharp fight 
of half a minute. Then he ran to the prison door, 
turned the key in the lock and opened it. 

“ Come,” he exclaimed, “ there is no time to be lost, 
the guards outside have taken the alarm,” for by this 
time there was a furious knocking at the gate. “ Wrap 
yourself up in this native robe.” 

“ But the others, Mr. Bathurst, can’t you save them 
too?” 

“ Impossible,” he said. “ Even if they got out they 
would be overtaken and killed at once. Come!” And 
taking her hand, he led her to the gate. 

“ Stand back here so that the gate will open on you,” 
he said. 

Then he undid the bar, shouting, “Treachery, the 
prisoners are escaping. ” 

As he undid the last bolt the gate opened and the 
soldiers rushed in, firing at random as they did so. 
Bathurst had stepped behind the gate as it opened, and 
as the soldiers ran up the yard he' took Isobel’s hand, 
and, passing through the gate, ran with her round the 
building until he reached the spot where Rabda was 
awaiting them. Half a minute later her father joined 
them. 

“ Let us go at once, there is no time for talking,” he 
said. “We must be cautious, the firing will wake the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


355 


whole quarter for by this time loud shouts were being 
raised, and men hearing the muskets fired were running 
toward the gate. . Taking advantage of the shelter of 
the shrubbery as much as they could, they hurried on 
until they issued into the open country. 

“ Do you feel strong enough to walk far?” Bathurst 
asked, speaking for the first time since they left the 
gate. 

“I think so,” she said; “I am not sure whether I 
am awake or dreaming.” 

“You are awake. Miss Hannay; you are safe out of 
that terrible prison.” 

“I am not sure,” the girl said, speaking slowly; “I 
have been strange since I went there. I have seemed 
to hear voices speaking to me, though no one was there, 
and no one else heard them; and I am not sure whether 
all this is not fancy now.” 

“ It is reality. Miss Hannay. Take my hand and 5 mu 
will see that it is solid. The voices you heard were 
similar to those I heard at Deennugghur; they were 
messages I sent you by means of Rujub and his 
daughter.” 

“ 1 did think of what you told me and about the jug- 
gler, but it seemed so strange. I thought that my brain 
was turning with trouble ; it was bad enough at Deen- 
nugghur, but nothing to what it has been since that 
dreadful day at Bithoor. There did not seem much 
hope at Deennugghur. But somehow we all kept up, 
and, desperate as it seemed, I don’t think we ever quite 
despaired. You see, we all knew each other; besides 
no one could give way while the men were fighting 
and working so hard for us, but at Cawnpore there 
seemed no hope. There was not one woman there but 
had lost her husband or father. Most of them were in- 
different to life, scarcely ever speaking, and seeming 
to move in a dream, while others with children sat 
holding them close to them as if they dreaded a separa- 
tion at any moment. There were a few who were dif- 
ferent, who moved about and nursed the children and 
sick, and tried to comfort the others just as Mrs. Hunter 
did at Deennugghur. There was no crying and no 


356 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

lamenting. It would have been a relief if any one had 
cried, it was the stillness that was so trying; when 
people talked to each other they did it in a whisper as 
they do in a room where some one is lying dead. 

“ You know Mary Hunter died yesterday; well, Mrs. 
Hunter quite put aside her own griefs and tried to cheer 
others. I told her the last message I received and 
asked her to go with me if it should be true. She said, 
‘No, Isobel, I don’t know whether this message is a 
dream, or whether God has opened a way of escape for 
you; if so, may He be thanked, but you must go alone, 
one might escape where two might not. As for me, I 
shall wait here for whatever fate He may send me. 
My husband and my children have gone before me. I 
may do some good among these poor creatures, and here 
I shall stay. You are young and full of life and have 
many happy days in store for you. My race is nearly 
run — even did I wish for life I would not cumber you 
and your friends ; there will be perils to encounter and 
fatigues to be undergone. Had not Mary left us I 
would have sent her with you, but God did not will it 
so. Go therefore to the window, dear, as you were told 
by this message you think you have received, but do 
not be disappointed if no one comes. If it turns out 
true and there is a chance of escape, take it, dear, and 
may God be with you. ’ As I stood at the window I 
could not go at once as you told me to the door, I had 
to stand there. I saw it all till you turned and ran to 
the door, and then I came to meet you.” 

“ It was a pity you saw it,” he said gently. 

“Why? Do you think that, after what I have gone 
through, I was shocked at seeing you kill three of 
those wretches? Two months ago I suppose I should 
have thought it dreadful, but those two months have 
changed us altogether. Think of what we were then 
and what we are now. There remain only you, Mrs. 
Hunter, myself, and the note said, ‘Mr. Wilson too;’ 
is that true?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Well, we four, and all the others gone, Uncle and 
Mary and Amy and the Doolans and the dear Doctor, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


357 


all the children. Why, if the door had been open, and 
I had had a weapon I would have rushed to help you 
kill. I shudder at myself sometimes.” 

After a pause she went on. “ Then none of those in 
the other boat came to shore, Mr. Bathurst, except Mr. 
Wilson?” 

“ I fear not, the other boat sank directly. Wilson 
told me it was sinking as he sprang over. You had 
better not talk any more. Miss Hannay, for you are out 
of breath now and will need all your strength.” 

“ Yes, but tell me why you have taken me away; you 
said there was great danger?” 

“Our troops are coming up,” he said, “and I had 
reason to fear that when the rebels are defeated the 
mob may break open the prison.” 

“ They surely could not murder women and children 
who have done them no harm.” 

“ There is no saying what they might do, Miss Han- 
nay, but that was the reason why I dared not leave you 
where you were. I will tell you more about it after- 
ward. Now, please take my arm; we must be miles 
away from here before morning. They will find out 
then that you have escaped, and will no doubt scour 
the country.” 

They had left the road and were passing through the 
fields. Isobel’s strength failed rapidly, as soon as the 
excitement, that had at first kept her up, subsided. 
Rujub several times urged Bathurst to go faster, but 
the girl hung more and more heavily on his arm. 

“I can’t go any farther,” she said, at last; “it is so . 
long since I walked, and I suppose I have got weak. 

I have tried very hard, but I can scarcely drag my feet 
along. You had better leave me ; you have done all 
you could to save me, and I thank you so much. Only, 
please, leave a pistol with me. I am not at all afraid 
of dying, but I will not fall into their hands again.” 

“We must carry her, Rujub,” Bathurst said; “she is 
utterly exhausted and worn out, and no wonder. If 
we could make a sort of stretcher, it would be easy 
enough.” 

Rujub took the cloth from his shoulders, and laid it on 


358 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


the ground by the side of Isobel, who had now sunk 
down and was lying helpless. 

“ Lift her on this, Sahib, then we will take the four 
corners and carry her; it will be no weight.” 

Bathurst lifted Isobel, in spite of her feeble protest, 
and laid her on the cloth. 

“ I will take the two corners by her head,” Bathurst 
said, “ if you will each take one of the others.” 

“No, Sahib, the weight is all at the head; you take 
one corner and I will take the other. Rabda can take 
the two corners at the feet. We can change about 
when we like. ” 

Isobel had lost greatly in weight since the siege of 
Deennugghur began, and she was but a light burden 
for her three bearers, who started with her at a speed 
considerably greater than that at which she had walked. 

“Which way are you taking us, Rujub?” Bathurst 
asked presently; “ I have lost my bearings altogether.” 

“ I am keeping near the river, Sahib. I know the 
country well. We cannot follow the road, for there 
the Rajah’s troops and the Sepoys and the Oude men 
are gathered to oppose your people. They will fight 
to-morrow at Dong as I told you, but the main body is 
not far from here. We must keep far away from them, 
and if your people take Dong we can then join them if 
we like. This road keeps not far from the river, and 
we are not likely to meet Sepoys here, as it is the other 
road the white troops are coming up.” 

After four hours’ walking, Rujub said, “ There is a 
large wood just ahead. We will go in there. We are 
far enough off Cawnpore to be safe from any parties 
they may send out to search. If your people take Dong 
to-morrow, they will have enough to think of in Cawn- 
pore without troubling about an escaped prisoner. Be- 
sides,” he added, “if the Rajah’s orders are carried out 
at daybreak, they will not know that a prisoner has es- 
caped; they will not trouble to count.” 

“ I cannot believe it possible they will carry out such 
a butchery, Rujub.” 

“We shall see. Sahib. I did not tell you all I knew . 
lest we should fail to carry off the lady, but I know the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


359 


orders that have been given. Word has been sent 
round to the butchers of the town, and to-morrow 
morning soon after daybreak it will be done. ” 

Bathurst gave an exclamation of horror, for until 
now he had hardly believed it was possible that even 
Nana Sahib could perpetrate so atrocious a massacre. 
Not another word was spoken until they entered the 
wood. 

“ Where is the river, Rujub?” 

“ A few hundred yards to the left. Sahib ; the road is 
half a mile to the right. We shall be quite safe here.” 

They made their way for some little distance into the 
wood, and then laid down their burden. 

They had taken to the spot where Rabda remained, 
when the others went forward toward the prison, a 
basket containing food and three bottles of wine, and 
this Rujub had carried since they started together. As 
soon as the hammock was lowered to the ground, Isobel 
moved and sat up. 

“ I am rested now. Oh, how good you have all been! 
I was just going to tell you that I could walk again. I 
am quite ready to go on now. ” 

“We are going to halt here till to-morrow evening, 
Miss Hannay ; Rujub thinks we are quite beyond any 
risk of pursuit now. You must first eat and drink 
something and then sleep as long as you can. Rabda 
has brought a native dress for you and dye for staining 
your skin, but there is no occasion for doing that till 
to-morrow ; the river is only a short distance away and 
in the morning you will be able to enjoy a wash.” 

The neck was knocked off a bottle. Rabda had 
brought in the basket a small silver cup, and Isobel, 
after drinking some wine and eating a few mouthfuls 
of food, lay down by her and was soon fast asleep. 
Bathurst ate a much more hearty meal. Rujub and his 
daughter said that they did not want anything before 
morning. 

The sun was high before Bathurst woke. Rujub had 
lighted a fire and was boiling some rice in a lota. 

“ Where is Miss Hannay?” Bathurst asked, as he sat 
up. 


360 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


“ She has gone down to the river with Rabda. The 
trees hang down well over the water and they can wash 
without fear of being seen on the opposite shore. I 
was going to wake you when the lady got up, but she 
made signs that you were to be allowed to sleep on. ” 

In half an hour the two girls returned. Isobel was 
attired in a native dress and her face, neck, arms, feet, 
and ankles had been stained to the same color as 
Rabda’s. She came forward a little timidly, for she 
felt strange and uncomfortable in her scanty attire. 
Bathurst gave an exclamation of pain as he saw her 
face. 

“ How dreadfully you have burnt yourself. Miss 
Hannay ! Surely you cannot have followed the instruc- 
tions I gave you. ” 

“ No; it is not your fault at all, Mr. Bathurst. I put 
a great deal more on than you said, but I was so anx- 
ious to disfigure myself that I was determined to do it 
thoroughly ; but it is nothing to what it was. As you 
see, my lips are getting all right again, and the sores 
are a good deal better than they were ; I suppose they 
will leave scars, but that won’t trouble me.” 

“ It is the pain you must have suffered that I am 
thinking of,” he replied. “ As to the scars, I hope they 
will wear out in time, but you must have suffered hor- 
ribly.” 

“ They burned dreadfully for a time,” the girl an- 
swered, “ but for the last two or three days I hardly 
felt it, though, of course, it is vefy sore now. ” 

“ Do you. feel ready for breakfast. Miss Hannay?” 

“ Quite ready, and for a walk as long as you like 
afterward. I feel quite another creature after my dip ; 
that was one of the worst things in the prison, we had 
scarcely water enough to drink, and none to wash with, 
and, of course, no combs nor anything.” 

They sat down together and ate the cold food they 
had brought, while Rabda and her father made their 
breakfast of rice. 

'‘What has become of Mr. Wilson?” Isobel asked 
suddenly. ” I wondered about him as I was being car- 
ried along last night, but I was too tired to talk after- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 36 1 

ward. I hope he is safe at Allahabad by this time, or 
rather with the troops who are marching up. ” 

“ The Zemindar’s son, who came down with us as an 
escort, and one of his men got safely to shore also, and 
they went on with Wilson. When he found I was going 
to stay at Cawnpore to try and rescue you, he pleaded 
very hard that I should keep him with me in order that 
he might ^are in the attempt, but his ignorance of the 
language might have been fatal, and his being with 
me would have greatly added to the difficulty, so I was 
obliged to refuse him. It was only because I told him 
that instead of adding to he would lessen your chance 
of escape, that he consented to go, for I am sure he 
would willingly have laid down his life to save yours.” 

“ I am very glad he is safe ; he is very kind-hearted 
and nice, Mr. Bathurst, and a thoroughly natural, un- 
affected young fellow, very loyal and stanch. I am 
quite sure he would have done anything he could, even 
at the risk of his life.” 

“ I like him very much too. Miss Hannay. Before 
the siege, I thought him a careless, happy-go-lucky 
lad, but as I got to know him well I found he was 
much more than that, and he will make a good man 
and an excellent officer one of these days if he is spared. 
He is thoroughly brave without the slightest brag, an ex- 
cellents pecimen of the best class of public-school boy.” 

“And who are the troops coming up, Mr. Bathurst? 
how strong are they? I have heard nothing about 
them.” 

“ About twelve hundred white troops and four or five 
hundred Sikhs; at least that is what the natives put 
them at.” 

“ But surely they will never be able to fight their way 
to Cawnpore, where there are the mutineers and Nana 
Sahib’s troops and the Oude men and the people of the 
town. Why, there must be ten to one against them.” 

“ Not far short of that, I think, but I feel sure our 
men will do it.. They know of the treachery of the 
Nana; they know of the massacre by the river, and 
they know that the women and children are prisoners 
in his hands, and do you think that men that know 


362 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

these things can be beaten? The Sepoys met them in 
superior force and in a strong position at Futtehpore, 
and they drove them before them like chaff. They 
will have harder work next time, but I have no shadow 
of fear of the result.” 

' Then their talk went back to Deennugghur and of 
their friends there, the Doolans, the Hunters, the Rin- 
touls and others, and Isobel wept freely over their fate. 

“ Next to my uncle I shall miss the Doctor,” she said. 

“He was an awfully good fellow,” said Bathurst, 
“ and was the only real friend I have had since I came 
to India. I would have done anything for the Doctor.” 

“When shall we start?” Isobel asked presently. 

“Directly the sun goes down a little. You would 
find it terribly hot now. I have been talking it over 
with Rujub, and he says it is better not to make a long 
journey to-day. We are not more than twenty miles 
from Dong, and it would not do to move in that direc- 
tion until we know how things have gone; therefore, 
if we start at three o’clock and walk till seven or eight, 
it will be quite far enough.” 

“He seems a wonderful man,” said Isobel. “You 
remember that talk we had at dinner, before we went 
to see him at the Hunters’.” 

“Yes,” he said. “As you know, I was a believer 
then, and so was the Doctor. I need not say that I be- 
lieve still more now that these men do wholly unac- 
countable feats. He put the sentry outside the walls 
of your prison and five out of your eight warders so 
sound asleep that they did not wake during the struggle 
I had with the others. That of course was mesmerism. 
His messages to you were actually sent by means of his 
daughter. She was put in a sort of trance, in which 
she saw you and told us what you were doing, and 
communicated the message her father gave her to you. 
He could not send you a message nor tell me about you 
when you were first at Bithoor, because he said Rabda 
was not in sympathy with you, but after she had seen 
you and touched you, and you had kissed her, she was 
able to do so. There does not appear to me to be any- 
thing beyond the powers of nature in that, though 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


363 

doubtless powers were called into play of which at 
present we know nothing. But we do know that minds 
act upon each other. Possibly certain persons in sym- 
pathy with each other may be able to act upon each 
other from a distance, especially when thrown into 
the sort of trance which is known as the clairvoyant 
state. I always used to look upon that as humbug, but 
I need hardly say I shall in future be ready to believe 
almost anything. He professes to have other and even 
greater powers than what we have seen. At any rate, 
he can have no motive to deceive me when he has 
risked his life to help me. Do you know Rabda offered 
to go into the prison— her father could have got her an 
order to pass in — and then to let you go out in her 
dress while she remained in your stead. I could not 
accept the sacrifice even to save you, and I was sure 
had I done so you yourself would have refused to leave. ” 

“Of course. But how good of her! Please tell her 
that you have told me, and how grateful I am for her 
offer.” 

Bathurst called Rabda, who was sitting a short dis- 
tance away. 

She took the hand that Isobel held out to her and 
placed it against her forehead. 

“ My life is yours, Sahi b, ” she said simply to Bath- 
urst. “ It was right that I should give it for this lady 
you love.” 

“ What does she say?” Isobel said. 

“ She says that she owed me her life for that tiger 
business, you know, and was ready to give it for you 
because I had set my mind on saving you. ” 

“ Is that what she really said, Mr. Bathurst?” Isobel 
asked quietly, for he had hesitated a little in changing 
its wording. 

“ That was the sense of it, I can assure you. Not 
only was she ready to make the sacrifice, but her father 
consented to her doing so. These Hindoos are capable ‘ 
of gratitude, you see. There are not many English 
who would be ready thus to give their lives for a man 
who had accidentally, as I may say, saved their lives.” 

“ Not accidentally, Mr. Bathurst. Why do you al- 


3^4 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


ways try to run yourself down? I suppose you will 
say next you saved my life by an accident. ” 

“The saving of your life is due chiefly to these 
natives. ” 

“ But they were but your instruments, Mr. Bathurst, 
they had no interest in saving me. You had bought 
their services at the risk of your life, and in saving me 
they were paying that debt to you.” 

At three o’clock they prepared for the start. Bath- 
urst had exchanged the warder’s dress for one of a 
peasant, which they had brought with them. The 
wood was of no great width, and Rujub said they had 
better follow the road now. 

No one will suspect us of being anything but what 
we seem,” he said. “Should we meet any peasants 
their talk will be with you and me. They will ask no 
questions about the women; but if there is a woman 
among them, and she speaks, Rabda will answer her. ” 

For hours they had heard dull sounds in the air, 
which Bathurst had recognized at once as distant artil- 
lery, showing that the fight was going on near Dong. 

“ The Sepoys are making a stout resistance, or the 
firing would not last so long,” he said to Rujub, as they 
walked through the wood across the road. 

“They have two positions to defend, Sahib. The 
Nana’s men will fight first at a strong village two miles 
beyond Dong; if they are beaten there they will fight 
again at the bridge I told you of.” 

“That would partly account for it, but the Sepoys 
must be fighting much better than they did at Futteh- 
pore, for there, as you said, they swept the Sepoys be- 
fore them.” 

When they reached the edge of the wood, Bathurst 
said : “ I will see that the road is clear before we go out. 
If any one saw us issuing out of the wood they might 
wonder what we had been after.” 

He went to the edge of the bushes and looked down 
the long, straight road. There was only a solitary 
figure in sight. It seemed to be an old man walking 
lame with a stick. Bathurst was about to turn and teil 
the others to come out, when he saw the man stop sud- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


365 

denly, turn round to look back along the road, stand 
with his head bent as if listening, then run across the 
road with much more agility than he had before seemed 
to possess, and plunge in among the trees. 

‘‘Wait,” he said to those behind him, “something is 
going on. A peasant I saw in the road has suddenly 
dived into the wood as if he was afraid of being pursued. 
Ah!” he exclaimed a minute later, “there is a party 
of horsemen coming along at a gallop ; get farther back 
into the wood. ” 

Presently they heard the rapid trampling of horses, 
and looking through the bushes they saw some twenty 
Sowars of one of the native cavalry regiments dash past. 

Bathurst went to the edge of the wood again and 
looked out. Then he turned suddenl}^ to Isobel. 

“ You remember those pictures on the smoke?” he said 
excitedly. 

“ No, I do not remember them,” she said in surprise. 
“ I have often wondered at it, but I have never been 
able to recollect what they were since that evening. I 
have often thought they were just like a dream, when 
one sees everything just as plainly as if they were a 
reality, and then they go out of your mind altogether 
as soon as you are awake.” 

“It has been just the same with me,” replied Bath- 
urst, “ except that once or twice they have come back 
for a moment quite vividly. One of them I have not 
thought of for some days, but now I see it again. Don’t 
you remember there was a wood, and a Hindoo man 
and woman stepped out of it, and a third native came 
up to them?” 

“Yes, I remember now,” she said eagerly, “it was 
just as we are here; but what of that, Mr. Bathurst?” 

“ Did you recognize any of them?” 

“ Yes, yes, it all comes back to me now. It was you 
and the Doctor, certainly, and I thought the woman 
was myself. I spoke to the Doctor next day about it, 
but he laughed at it all ; and I have never thought of 
it since.” 

“ The Doctor and I agreed when we talked it over 
that evening that the Hindoo who stepped out of the 


366 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

wood was myself, and thought that you were the Hin- 
doo girl, but of that we were not so sure, for your face 
seemed not only darkened, but blotched and altered — 
it was just as you are now — and the third native was 
the Doctor himself, we both felt certain of that. It 
has come true, and I feel absolutely certain that the 
native I saw along the road will turn out to be the 
Doctor. ” 

“ Oh, I hope so, I hope so!” the girl cried, and pressed 
forward with Bathurst to the edge of the wood. 

The old native was coming along on the road again. 
As he approached, his eye fell on the two figures, and 
with a Hindoo salutation he was passing on when Isobel 
cried, “ It is the Doctor!” and rushing forward she threw 
her arms round his neck. 

“Isobel Hannay!” he cried in delight and amaze- 
ment; “ my dear little girl, my dear little girl, thank 
God you are saved! but what have you been doing with 
yourself, and who is this with you?” 

“You knew me when you saw me in the picture on 
the smoke. Doctor,” Bathurst said, grasping his hand, 
“ though you do not know me in life.” 

“You, too, Bathurst,” the Doctor exclaimed, as he 
wrung his hand ; “ thank God for that, my dear boy ! to 
think that both of you should have been saved, it seems 
a miracle. The picture on the smoke — yes, we were 
speaking of it that last night at Deennugghur, and I 
never have thought of it since. Is there any one else?” 
j “ My friend the juggler and his daughter are with 
' us. Doctor. ” 

“Then I can understand the miracle,” the Doctor 
said, “ for I believe that fellow could take you through 
the air and carry you through stone walls with the wave 
of his hand.” 

“ Well, he has not exactly done that, but he and his 
daughter have rendered us immense service. I could 
have done nothing without them. ” 

The two natives, seeing through the bushes the rec- 
ognition that had taken place, had now stepped forward 
and salaamed as the Doctor spoke a few hearty words 
to them. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 367 

“ But where have you sprung from, Doctor? How 
were you saved?” 

“ I jumped overboard when those scoundrels opened 
fire,” the Doctor said. “ I kept my wits about me, and 
j said to myself that if I were to swim for the opposite 
shore the chances were that I should get shot down, so 
I made a long dive, came up for air and then went down 
again, and came up the next time under some bushes 
by the bank ; there I remained all night. The villains 
were only a few yards away, and I could hear every 
word they said. I heard the boat come ashore, and al- 
though I could have done no good by rushing out, I think 
I should have done so if I had had any weapon about 
me, and have tried to kill one or two of them before I 
went down. As it was, I waited until morning, then I 
heard the rumble of the guns and the wagons and knew 
that they were off. I waited for another hour to make 
sure, aiid then stepped ashore. I went to the boat lying 
by the bank, when I saw that Isobel and the other two 
ladies were not there, and knew that they must have 
been carried off into Cawnpore. I waited there until 
night, and then made my way to a peasant’s house a 
mile out of the town. I had operated upon him for 
elephantiasis two years ago, and the man had shown 
himself grateful, and occasionally had sent me in little 
presents of fowls and so on. He received me well, 
gave me food, which I wanted horribly, stained my skin, 
and rigged me out in this disguise. The next morning 
I went into the town, and for the last four or five days 
have wandered about there. There was nothing I could 
do and yet I felt that I could not go away, but I must 
stay within sight of the prison where you were all con- 
fined till our column arrived. But this morning I de- 
termined to come down to join our people who were 
fighting their way up, little thinking that I should light 
upon you by the way.” 

“We were just going to push on. Doctor, but as you 
have had a good long tramp already, we will stop here 
until to-morrow morning, if you like.” 

“ No, no, let us go on, Bathurst. I would rather be 
on the move, and you can tell me your story as we go.” 


368 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Bathurst knew the Doctor well, and perceived that, 
g-lad as he was to have met them, he was yet profoundly 
depressed in spirits. This, added to the fact that he 
had left Cawnpore that morning, instead of waiting as 
he had intended, convinced Bathurst that what he 
dreaded had taken place. He waited until Isobel 
stopped for a moment, that Rabda might rearrange the 
cloth folded round her in its proper draping. Then he 
said quickly, “ I heard yesterday what was intended, 
Doctor. Is it possible that it has been done?” 

“ It was done this morning.” 

“What, all? Surely not all. Doctor?” 

“ Every soul — every woman and child. Think of it 
— the fiends! the devils! The native brought me the 
news. If I had heard it in the streets of Cawnpore I 
should have gone mad, and seized a sword and run 
amuck. As it was I was well-nigh out of my mind. I 
could not stay there. The man would have sheltered 
me until the troops came up, but I was obliged to be 
moving, so I started down. Hush! here comes Isobel; 
we must keep it from her.” 

“ Now, Isobel,” he went on, as the girl joined them, 
and they all started along the road, “ tell me how it is 
I find you here.” 

“Mr. Bathurst must tell you, Doctor; I cannot talk 
about it yet— I can hardly think about it.” 

“Well, Bathurst, let us hear it from you.” 

“ It is a painful story for me to have to tell.” 

Isobel looked up in surprise. 

“ Painful, Mr. Bathurst? I should have thought ” 

and she stopped. 

“ Not all painful. Miss Hannay ; but in parts. I would 
rather tell you. Doctor, when we have finished our 
journey this evening, if your curiosity will allow you 
to wait so long. ” 

“I will try to wait,” the Doctor replied, “though I 
own it is a trial. Now, Isobel, you have not told me 
yet what has happened to your face. Eet me look at it 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 369 

closer, child. I see your arms are bad, too. What on 
earth has happened to )^ou, child?” 

“ I burned myself with acid. Doctor. Mr.' Bathurst 
will tell you all about it.” 

“Bless me, -mystery seems to thicken. Well, you 
have got yourself into a pretty pickle. Why, child, 
burns of that sort leave scars as bad as if you had been 
burned by fire. You ought to be in a dark room with 
your face and hands bandaged, instead of tramping 
along here in the sun.” 

“ I have some lotions and some ointment. Doctor. I 
have used them regularly since it was done, and the 
places don’t hurt me much now.” 

“No, they look healthy enough,” he said, examining 
them closely. “ Granulation is going on nicely ; but I 
warn you you will be disfigured for months, and it may 
be years before you get rid of the scars. I doubt, in- 
deed, if you will ever get rid of them altogether. Well, 
well, what shall we talk about?” 

“ I will take pity on you. Doctor. I will walk on 
ahead with Rabda and her father, and Mr. Bathurst can 
then tell you his story.” 

“ That will be the best plan, my dear. Now then, 
Bathurst, fire away,” he said, when the others had gone 
on thirty or forty yards ahead. 

“ Well, Doctor, you remember that you were forward 
talking to the young Zemindar, and I was sitting aft by 
the side of Miss Hannay when they opened fire?” 

“I should think I do remember it,” the Doctor said, 
“ and I am not likely to forget it if I live to be a hun- 
dred. Well, what about that?” 

“ I jumped overboard,” Bathurst said, laying his hand 
impressively upon the Doctor’s shoulder, “ I gave a cry, 
I know I did, and I jumped overboard.” 

The Doctor looked at him in astonishment. 

“ Well, so did I, like a shot. But what do you say it 
in that tone for? Of course you jumped overboard. If 
you hadn’t you would not be here now.” 

“You don’t understand me. Doctor,” Bathurst said 
gloomily. “ I was sitting there next to Isobel Hannay 
— the woman I loved. We were talking in low tones, 

24 


370 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


and I don’t know why, but at that moment the mad 
thought was coming into my mind that, after all, she 
cared for me; that in spite of the disgrace I had 
brought upon myself, in spite of my being a coward, 
she might still be mine ; and as I was thinking this, 
'there came the crash of a cannon. Can it be imagined 
possible that I jumped up like a frightened hare, and 
without a thought of her, without a thought of any- 
thing, in my mad terror jumped overboard and left her 
behind to her fate? If it had not been that as soon as 
I recovered my senses — I was hit on the head just as I 
landed, and knew nothing of what happened until I 
found myself in the bushes with young Wilson by my 
side — the thought occurred to me that I would rescue 
her or die in the attempt, I would have blown out my 
brains.” 

“But bless my heart, Bathurst!” the Doctor said 
earnestly, “what else could you have done? Why, I 
jumped overboard without stopping to think, and so 
did every one else who had power to do so, no doubt. 
What good could you have done if you had stayed? 
What good would it have done to the girl if you had 
been killed? Why, if you had been killed, she would 
now be lying mangled and dead with the others in that 
ghastly prison. You take a morbid view of it alto- 
gether. ” 

“ There was no reason why you should not have 
jumped overboard, Doctor, nor the others. Don’t you 
see I was with the woman I loved? I might have seized 
her in my arms and jumped overboard with her and 
swam ashore with her, or I might have stayed and died 
with her. I thought of my own wretched life, and I 
deserted her.” 

“ My dear Bathurst, you did not think of your life. 
I don’t think any of us stopped to think of anything; 
but, constituted as you are, the impulse must have been 
overpowering. It is nonsense your taking this matter 
to heart. Why, man, if you had stopped you would 
have been murdered when the boat touched the shore, 
and do you think it would have made her happier to 
have seen you killed before her eyes? If you had swum 


IN THE DAYS OE THE MUTINY. 


371 


ashore with her the chances are she would have been 
killed by that volley of grape, for I saw eight or ten 
bodies lying on the sands, and you 5^ourself were, you 
say, hit. ^ You acted upon impulse, I grant, but it was 
upon a wise impulse. You did the very best thing that 
could have been done, and your doing so made it pos- 
sible that Isobel Hannay should be rescued from what 
would otherwise have been certain death.” 

“It has turned out so. Doctor, ” Bathurst said gloomily, 
“ and I thank God that she is saved. But that does not 
alter the fact that I, an English gentleman by birth, 
thought only of myself, and left the woman I loved, 
who was sitting by my side, to perisb. But do not let 
us talk anymore about it. It is done and over. There 
is an end of it now. I will tell you the story.” 

The Doctor listened silently until he heard of Isobel’s 
being taken to Bithoor. “The atrocious villain,” he 
exclaimed. “ I have been lamenting the last month 
that I never poisoned the fellow, and now — but go 
on, go on. How on earth did you get her away?” 

Bathurst told the whole story, interrupted by many 
exclamations of approval by the Doctor ; especially when 
he learned why Isobel disfigured herself. 

“ Well done!” he exclaimed; “ I always knew that she 
was a plucky girl, and it needed courage, I can tell you, 
to burn herself as she has done, to say nothing of risk- 
ing spoiling her beauty for life. No slight sacrifice for 
a woman. ” 

Bathurst passed lightly over his fight in the court-yard, 
but the Doctor questioned him as to the exact facts. 

“ Not so bad for a coward, Bathurst,” he said dryly. 

“There was no noise,” Bathurst said; “if they had 
had pistols, and had used them, it might have been dif- 
ferent. Heaven knows, but I don’t think that then, 
'with her life at stake, I should have flinched; I had 
made up my mind they would have pistols, but I hope — 
I think that my nerves would not have given way then. ” 

“ I am sure they wouldn’t, Bathurst — well, go on with 
your story. ” 

“Well, how did you feel then?” he asked, when 
Bathurst described how the guard rushed in through 


372 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

the gate firing, “ for it is the noise and not the danger 
that upsets you.” 

“I did not even think of it,” Bathurst said, in some 
surprise. “ Now you mention it, I am astonished that I 
was not for a minute paralyzed, as I always am, but I 
did not feel anything of the sort ; they rushed in firing 
as I told you, and directly they had gone I took her 
hand and we ran out together.” * 

“ I think it quite possible, Bathurst, that your nervous- 
ness may have gone forever. Now that once you have 
heard guns fired close to you without your nerves giving 
way as usual, it is quite possible that you might do so 
again. I don’t say that you would, but it is possible, in- 
deed it seems tome to be probable. It maybe that the 
sudden shock when you jumped into the water, acting 
upon your nerves when in a state of extreme tension, may 
have set them right, and that bullet graze along the top 
of the skull may have aided the effect of the shock. 
Men frequently lose their nerve after a heavy fall from 
a horse, or a sudden attack by a tiger, or any other un- 
expected shock. It may be that with you it has had 
the reverse consequence.” 

“ I hope to God that it may be so. Doctor. It is cer- 
tainly extraordinary that I should not have felt it when 
there was musketry fired within a few feet of my head. 
Jf we get down to Allahabad I will try. I will place 
myself near a gun when it is going to be fired, and if I 
stand it I will come up again and join this column as a 
volunteer and take part in the work of vengeance. If 
I can but once bear my part as a man they are welcome 
to kill me in the next engagement. ” 

“ Pooh ! pooh, man ! you are not born to be killed 
in battle. After making yourself a target on the roof 
at Deennugghur, and jumping down in the middle of 
the Sepoys in the breach, and getting through that at- 
tack in the boats, I don’t think you are fated to meet 
your end with a bullet. Well, now let us walk on, and 
join the others. Isobel must be wondering how much 
longer we are going to talk together. She cannot ex- 
change a word with the natives, it must be dull work 
for her. She is a great deal thinner than she was be- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY, 


373 


fore these troubles came on. You see how differently 
she walks. She has quite lost that elastic step of hers, 
but I dare say that is a good deal due to her walking 
with bare feet instead of in English boots — boots have 
a good deal to do with a walk. Look at the difference 
between the walk of a gentleman who has always worn 
well-fitting boots and that of a countryman who has 
gone about in thick iron-shod boots all his life. Breed- 
ing goes for something, no doubt, and alters a man’s 
walk just as it alters a horse’s gait.” 

Bathurst could not help laughing at the Doctor drop- 
ping into his usual style of discussing things, 

“Are your feet feeling tender, Isobel?” the latter 
asked cheerfully, as he overtook those in front. 

“No, Doctor,” she said with a smile; “I don’t know 
that I was ever thankful for dust before, but I am now ; 
it is so soft that it is like walking on a carpet, but, of 
course, it feels very strange.” 

“ You have only to fancy, my dear, that you are by 
the sea-side, walking down from your bathing machine 
across the sands ; once get that in your mind and you 
will get perfectly comfortable. ” 

“ It requires too great a stretch of the imagination. 
Doctor, to think for a moment, in this sweltering heat, 
that I am enjoying a sea-breeze on our English coast. 
It is silly, of course, to give it even a thought, when 
one is accustomed to see almost every woman without 
shoes. I think I should mind it more than I do if my 
feet were not stained. I don’t know why, but I should. 
But please don’t talk about it. I try to forget it and to 
fancy that I am really a native. ” 

They met but few people on the road. Those they 
did meet passed them with the usual salutation. There 
was nothing strange in a party of peasants passing 
along the road. They might have been at work at 
Cawnpore, and be now returning to their native village 
to get away from the troubles there. After it became 
dark, they went into a clump of trees half a mile distant 
from a village they could see along the road. 

“I will go in,” Rujub said, “and bring some grain, 

and hear what the news is,” 


374 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


He returned in an hpur. “ The English have taken 
Dong,” he said, “the news came in two hours ago. 
There has been some hard fighting ; the Sepoys resisted 
stoutly at the village, even advancing beyond the en- 
closures to meet the British. They were driven back 
by the artillery and rifle fire, but held the village for 
some time before they were turned out. There was a 
stand made at the Pandoo Bridge, but it was a short i 
one. The force massed there fell back at once when 
the British infantry came near enough to rush forward 
at a charge, and in their hurry they failed to blow up 
the bridge.” 

A consultation was held as to whether they should 
try to join the British, but it was decided that as the 
road down to Allahabad would be rendered safe by 
their advance, it would be better to keep straight 
on. 

The next day they proceeded on their journey, walk- 
ing in the early morning, halting as soon as the sun 
had gained much power, and going on again in the cool 
of the evening, and three days later reached the port of 
Allahabad. It was crowded with ladies w^ho had come 
in from the country round. Most of the men were do- 
ing duty with the garrison, but some thirty had gone 
up with Havelock’s column as volunteer cavalry, his 
force being entirely deficient in that arm. 

Ss soon as Bathurst explained who they were they 
were received with the greatest kindness, and Isobel 
was at once carried off by the ladies, while the Doctor 
and Bathurst were surrounded by an eager group anx- 
ious to hear the state of affairs at Cawnpore, and how 
they had escaped. The news of the fighting at Dong 
was already known, for on the evening of the day of the 
fight Havelock had sent down a mounted messenger 
to say the resistance was proving so severe that he 
begged some more troops might be sent up. As all 
was quiet now at Allahabad, where there had at first 
been some fierce fighting. General Neil, who was.in com- 
mand there, had placed two hundred and thirty men of 
the 84th Regiment in bullock vans and had himself gone 
on with th§m. 


IN THE HAYS OE THE MUTINY. 375 

The Doctor had kept the news of the massacre to 
himself. 

“ They will know it before many hours are over, 
Bathurst,” he said, “and were I to tell them half of 
them wouldn’t believe me and the other half would 
pester my life out with questions. There is never any 
occasion to hurry in telling bad news.” 

The first inquiry of Bathurst and his friends had been 
for Wilson, and they found to their great pleasure that 
he had arrived in safety, and had gone up with the 
little body of cavalry. Captain Forster, whom the)^ 
next asked for, had not reached Allahabad, and no 
news had been heard of him. 

“ What are you going to do, Rujub?” Bathurst asked 
the native next morning. 

“I shall go to Patna,” he said. “I have friends 
there, and shall remain in the city until these troubles 
are over. I believe now that you were right. Sahib, 
although I did not think so when you spoke, and that 
the British Raj will be restored. I thought, as did the 
Sepoys, that they were a match for the British troops. 
I see now that I was wrong. There is a tremendous 
task before them. There is all Oude and the North- 
west to conquer, and fully two hundred thousand men 
in arms against them, but I believe that they will do it. 
They are a great people, and now I do not wish it 
otherwise. This afternoon I shall start. ” 

The Doctor, who had made many acquaintances in 
Allahabad, had no difficulty in obtaining money from 
the garrison treasury, and Bathurst and Isobel purchased 
the two handsomest bracelets they could obtain from 
the ladies in the fort as a souvenir for Rabda, and gav^ 
them to her with the heartiest expressions of their deep 
gratitude to her and her father. 

“I shall think of you ahvays, Rabda,” Isob^ said, 
“ and shall be grateful to the end of my life for the 
kindness that yon have done us. Your father has given 
us your address at Patna and I shall write to you often.” 

“I shall never forget you, lady; and even the black 
water will not quite separate us. As I knew how you 
were in prison, so I shall know how you are in your 


376 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

home in England. What we have done is little. Did 
not the Sahib risk his life for me? My father and I 
will never forget what we owe him. I am glad to know 
that you will make him happy.” 

This was said in the room that had been allotted to 
Isobel, an ayah of one of the ladies in the fort acting 
as interpreter. She had woke up in the morning flushed 
and feverish, and the Doctor, when sent for, told her 
she must keep absolutely quiet. 

“ I am afraid I am going to have her on my hands 
for a bit,” he said to Bathurst. “She has borne the 
strain well, but she looks to me as if she was going to 
have a smart attack of fever. It was well that we got 
her here before it showed itself. You need not look 
scared; it is just the reaction. If it had been going 
to be brain fever or anything of that sort I should have 
expected her to break down directly you got her out. 
No, I don’t anticipate anything serious, and I am sure 
I hope that it won’t be. I have put my name down to 
go up with the next batch of volunteers. Doctors will 
be wanted at the front, and I hope to have a chance of 
wiping out my score with some of those scoundrels. 
However, though I think she is going to be laid up, I 
don’t fancy it will last many days.” 

That afternoon a messenger from Havelock brought 
down the terrible news that they had fought their way 
to Cawnpore, only to find that the whole of the ladies 
and children in the Subada Ke Kothee had been mas- 
sacred and their bodies thrown down a well. The grief 
and indignation caused by the news was terrible ; scarce 
one but had friends among the prisoners. Women 
wept ; men walked up and down, wild with fury at be- 
ing unable to do aught at present to avenge the mas- 
sacre. 

“What are you going to do, Bathurst?” the Doctor 
asked, that evening. “ I suppose you have some sort 
of plan?” 

“ I do not know yet. In the first place I want to try 
whether what you said the other day is correct, and if 
I can stand the noise of firing without flinching. ” 

“We can’t try here in the fort,” the Doctor said, full 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


377 


of interest in the experiment ; “ a musket shot would 
throw the whole garrison into confusion, and at present 
no one can go far from the fort ; however, there may 
be a row before long, and then you will have an op- 
portunity of trying. If there is not, we will go out to- 
gether half a mile or so as soon as some more troops get 
up. You said, when we were talking about it at Deen- 
nugghur, you should resign your appointment and go 
home, but if you find your nerves are all right you may 
change your mind about that. How about the young 
lady in there?” 

“Well, Doctor, I should say that you, as her father’s 
friend, are the person to make arrangements for her. 
Just at present travel is not very safe, but I suppose 
that directly things quieted down a little, many of the 
ladies will be going down to the coast, and no doubt 
some of them would take charge of Miss Hannay back 
to England.” 

“ And you mean to have nothing to say in the matter?” 

“ Nothing at all, ” he said firmly. “I have already 
told you my views on the subject.” 

“Well, then,” the Doctor said hotly, “I regard you 
as an ass.” And without another word he walked off 
.in great anger. 

For the next four or five days, Isobel was in a high 
state of fever ; it passed off as the Doctor had predicted 
it would do, but left her very weak and languid. An- 
other week and she was about again. 

“What is Mr. Bathurst going to do?” she asked the 
Doctor, the first day she was up on a couch. 

“ I don’t know what he is going to do, my dear,” he 
said irritably, “my opinion of Bathurst is that he is a 
fool.” 

“Oh, Doctor, how can you say so!” she exclaimed in 
astonishment; “why, what has he done?” 

“ It isn’t what he has done, but what he won’t do, 
my dear. Here is he in love with a young woman in 
every way suitable, and who is ready to say yes when- 
ever he as ks her, and he won’t ask and is not going to 
ask, because of a ridiculous crotchet he has got in his 
head.” 


378 


IN THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


Isobel flushed and then grew pale. 

“What is the crotchet?” she asked, in a low tone, after 
being silent for some time. 

“ What do you think, my dear? he is more disgusted 
with himself than ever.” 

“Not about that nervousness, surely,” Isobel said, 
“ after all he has done and the way he has risked his 
life? Surely that cannot be troubling him?” 

“ It is, my dear; not so much on the general as on a 
particular ground. He insists that by jumping out of 
the boat when that fire began, he has done for himself 
altogether.” 

“ But what could he have done. Doctor?” 

“ That’s what I ask him, my dear. He insists that 
he ought to either have seized you and jumped over- 
board with you, in which case you would both probably 
have been killed, as I pointed out to him, or else stayed 
quietly with you by your side, in which case, as I also 
pointed out to him, you would have had the satisfaction 
of seeing him murdered. He could not deny that this 
would have been so, but that in no way alters his opin- 
ion of his own conduct. I also ventured to point out 
to him that if he had been killed you would at this mo- 
ment be either in the power of that villanous Nana or 
be with hundreds of others in that ghastly well at 
Cawnpore. I also observed to him that I, who do not 
regard myself as a coward, also jumped overboard from 
your boat, and that Wilson, who is certainly a plucky 
young fellow, and a number of others jumped over from 
the other boat ; but I might as well have talked to a 
post. ” 

Isobel sat for some time silent, her fingers playing 
nervously with each other. 

“ Of course it seems foolish of him to think of it so 
strongly, but I don’t think it is unnatural he should 
feel as he does.” 

“ May I ask why?” the Doctor said sarcastically. 

“ I mean. Doctor, it would be foolish of other people, 
but I don’t think it is foolish of him. Of course he 
could have done no good staying in the boat, he would 
have simply thrown away his life, and yet I think, I 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


379 


feel sure, that there are many men who would have 
thrown away their lives in such a case. Even at that 
moment of terror I felt a pang, when, without a word, 
he sprang overboard. I thought of it many times that 
long night, in spite of my grief for my uncle and the 
others, and my horror of being a prisoner in the hands 
of the Sepoys. I did not blame him, because I knew 
how he must have felt, and that it was done in the panic 
of a moment. I was not so sorry for myself as for him, 
for I knew that, if he escaped, the thought of that mo- 
ment would be terrible for him. I need not say that 
in my mind the feeling that he should not have left me 
so has been wiped out a thousand times by what he did 
afterward, by the risk he ran for me and the infinite 
service he rendered me by saving me from a fate worse 
than death. But I can enter into his feelings. Most 
men would have jumped over just as he did and would 
never have blamed themselves even if they had once 
started away down the country to save their own lives, 
much less if they had stopped to save mine as he has 
done. 

“ But who can wonder that he is more sensitive than 
others? Did he not hear from you that I said that a 
coward was contemptible? Did not all the men except 
you and my uncle turn their backs upon him and treat 
him with contempt in spite of his effort to meet his death 
by standing up on the roof? Think how awfully he 
must have suffered, and then, when it seemed that his 
intervention, which saved our lives, had to some extent 
won him back the esteem of the men around him, that 
he should so fail again, as he considers, and that with 
me beside him. No wonder that he takes the view he 
does, and that he refuses to consider that even the de- 
votion and courage he afterward showed can redeem 
what he considers is a disgrace. You always said that 
he was brave. Doctor, and I believe now there is no 
braver man living; but that makes it so much the worse 
for him; A coward would be more than satisfied with 
himself for what he did afterward, and would regard it 
as having completely wiped out any failing, while he 
magnifies the failing such as it was, and places but 


380 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

small weight on what he afterward did. I like him all 
the better for it. I know the fault, if fault it was, and 
I thought it so at the time, was one for which he was 
not responsible, and yet I like him all the better that 
he feels it so deeply.” 

“Well, my dear, you had better tell him so,” the 
Doctor said dryly. “ I really agree with what you say, 
and you make an excellent advocate. I cannot do bet- 
ter than leave the matter in your hands. You know, 
child,” he said, changing his tone, “I have from the 
first wished for Bathurst and you to come together, and 
if you don’t do so I shall say you are the most wrong- 
headed young people I ever met. He loves you, and I 
don’t think there is any question about your feelings, 
and you ought to make matters right somehow. Un- 
fortunately, he is a singularly pig-headed man when he 
gets an idea in his mind. However, I hope that it will 
come all right. By the way, he asked were you well 
enough to see him -to-day?” 

“ I would rather not see him till to-morrow, ” the girl 
said. 

“And I think too that you had better not see him 
until to-morrow, Isobel. Your cheeks are flushed now, 
and your hands are trembling, and I do not want you 
laid up again, so I order you to keep yourself perfectly 
quiet for the rest of the day.” 

But it was not till two days later that Bathurst came 
up to see her. 

The spies brought in, late that evening, the news 
that a small party of the Sepoy cavalry, with two guns, 
were at a village three miles on the other side of the 
town, and were in communication with the disaffected. 
It was decided at once by the officer who had succeeded 
General Neil in the command of the fort, that a small 
party of fifty infantry, accompanied by ten or twelve 
mounted volunteers, should go out and attack them. 
Bathurst sent in his name to form one of the party as 
soon as he learned the news, borrowing the horse of an 
officer who was laid up ill. 

The expedition started two hours before daybreak, 
and making a long detour fell upon the Sepoys at seven 


IN THE HAYS OF THE MUTINY. 381 

o’clock. The latter, who had received news half an 
hour before of their approach, relying on their cannon, 
made a stand. The infantry, however, moved forward 
in skirmishing order, their fire quickly silenced the 
guns, and they then rushed forward while the little 
troop of volunteers charged. 

The fight lasted but a few minutes, at the end of 
which time the enemy galloped off in all directions 
leaving their guns in the hands of the victors. Four 
of the assailants had been killed by the explosion of a 
well-aimed shell, and five of the volunteers were 
wounded in the hand-to-hand fight with the Sowars. 
The Sepoys’ guns and artillery horses had been captured. 

The party at once set out on their return. On their 
way they had some skirmishing with the rabble of the 
town, who had heard the firing, but they were beaten 
off without much difficulty and the victors re-entered 
the fort in triumph. The Doctor was at the gate as 
they came in. Bathurst sprang from his norse and 
held out his hand. His radiant face told its own story. 

“Thank God, Doctor, it has passed! I don’t think 
my pulse went a beat faster when the guns opened on 
us, and the crackle of our own musketry had no more 
effect. I think it has gone forever. ’’ 

“ I am glad indeed, Bathurst, ” the Doctor said, 
warmly grasping his hand. “ I hoped that it might be 
so.” 

“ No words can express how grateful I feel,” Bathurst 
said. “ The cloud that shadowed my life seems lifted, 
and henceforth I shall be able to look a man in the face. ” 
“You are wounded, I see,” the Doctor said. 

“Yes, I had a pistol ball through my left arm. I 
fancy the bone is broken, but that is of no consequence. ” 
“A broken arm is no trifle,” the Doctor said, “es- 
pecially in a climate like this. Come into the hospital 
at once and let me see to it. ” 

One of the bones of the forearm was indeed broken, 
and the Doctor, having applied splints and bandages, 
peremptorily ordered him to lie down. Bathurst pro- 
tested that he was perfectly able to get up with his arm 
in a sling. 


382 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

“ I know you are able,” the Doctor said testily; “ and 
if you were to go about in this oven we should very 
likely have you in a high fever by to-morrow morning. 
Keep yourself perfectly quiet for to-day ; by to-morrow, 
if you have no signs of fever and the wound is doing 
well, we will see about it.” 

Upon leaving him. Dr. Wade went out and heard the 
details of the fight. 

“Your friend, Bathurst, particularly distinguished 
himself,” the officer who commanded the volunteers 
said. “ He cut down the ressaldar who commanded the 
Sepoys, and was in the thick of it. I saw him run one 
Sowar through and shoot another. I am not surprised 
at his fighting so well after what you have gone through 
in Deennugghur and in that Cawnpore business.” 

The Doctor then went up to see Isobel. She looked 
flushed and excited. 

“ Is it true, Doctor, that Mr. Bathurst went out with 
the volunteers, and that he is wounded?” 

“ Both items are true, my dear ; fortunately the 
wound is not serious. It has broken the small bone of 
the left fore-arm, but I don’t think it will lay him up 
for long; in fact, he objects strongly to go to bed.” 

“ But how did he — how is it he went out to fight. 
Doctor? I could hardly believe it when I was told, 
though, of course, I did not say so.” 

“ My dear, it was an experiment. He told me that 
he did not feel at all nervous when the Sepoys rushed 
in, firing, at the gate, when he was walking off with you, 
and it struck me that possibly the sudden shock and the 
jump into the water when they attacked the boats, and 
that rap on the head with a musket-ball, might have 
affected his nervous system, and that possibly he was 
cured, so he was determined on the first occasion to try. ” 

“ And did it, Doctor?” Isobel asked eagerly. “ I 
don’t care, you know, one bit whether he is nervous 
when there is a noise or not, but for his sake I should 
be glad to know that he has got over it ; it has made 
him so unhappy.” 

“ He has got over it, my dear; he went through the 
fight without feeling the least nervous, and distinguished 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 383 

himself very much in the charge, as the officer who 
commanded his troops has just told me.” 

“Oh, I am glad— I am thankful, Doctor; no words 
can say how pleased I am ; I know that it would have 
made his whole life unhappy, and I should have always 
had the thought that he remembered those hateful 
words of mine. ” 

“ I am as glad as you are, Isobel, though I fancy it 
will change our plans. ” 

“ How change our plans, Doctor? I did not know 
that I had any plans. ” 

“I think you had, child, though you might not 
acknowledge them even to yourself. My plan was that 
you should somehow convince him that, in spite of what 
you said, and in spite of his leaving you in that boat, 
you were quite content to take him for better or for 

worse. ” . , , . 

“ How could I tell him that?” the girl said, coloring. 

“ Well, I think you would have had to do so some- 
how, my dear, but that is not the question now. My 
plan was that when you had succeeded in doing this 
you should marry him and go home with him. ” 

“But why, Doctor,” she asked, coloring even more 
hotly than before, “ is the plan changed?” 

“ Because, my dear, I don’t think Bathurst will go 
home with you. ” 

^ Why not. Doctor?” she asked in surprise. 

“ Because, my dear, he will want, in the first place, 

to rehabilitate himself.” , 

“ But no one knows. Doctor, about the siege ana 
what happened there, except you and I and Mr. Wilson ; 
all the rest have gone.” 

“ That is true, my dear, but he will want to rehabili- 
’ tate himself in his own eyes, and besides^ that former 
affair which first set you against him, might crop up 
at any time. Other civilians, many of them, have 
volunteered in the service, and no man of courage 
would like to go away as long as things are in their 
present state. You will see, Bathurst will stay. 

Isobel was silent. 

“ I think he will be right,” she said at last gravel}. 


3S4 


IN THE HAYS OE THE MUTINY. 


“ If he wishes to do so, I should not try to dissuade him ; 
it would be very hard to know that he is in danger, but 
no harder for me than for others.” 

“That is right, my dear,” the Doctor said affection- 
ately. “ I should not wish my little girl — and now the 
Major has gone I feel that you are my little girl — to 
think otherwise. I think,” he went on, smiling, “that 
the first part of that plan we spoke of will not be as J 
difficult as I fancied it would be ; the sting has gone 
and he will get rid of his morbid fancies.” 

“ When shall I be able to see him?” 

“Well, if I had any authority over him you would 
not see him for a week ; as I have not, I think it likely 
enough that you will see him to-morrow.” 

“ I would rather wait if it would do him any harm. 
Doctor.” 

“ I don’t think it will do him any harm. Beyond the 
fact that he will have to carry his arm in a sling for the 
next fortnight, I don’t think he will have any trouble 
with it.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

The next morning Bathurst found Isobel Hannay 
sitting in a shady court that had been converted into a 
sort of general room for ladies in the fort. 

“ How are you. Miss Hannay? I am glad to see you 
down.” 

“ I might repeat your words, Mr. Bathurst, for you see 
we have changed places. You are the invalid, and not I. ” 

“There is very little of the invalid about me,” he 
said. “ I am glad to see that your face is much better 
than it was. ” 

“Yes, it is healing fast. I am a dreadful figure still, 
and the Doctor says that there will be red scars for 
months, and that probably my face will be always 
marked. ” 

“ The Doctor is a croaker. Miss Hannay ; there is no 
occasion to trust him too implicitly. I predict that 
there will not be any serious scars left.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


385 


He took a seat beside her. There were two or three 
others in the court, but these were upon the other side, 
quite out of hearing. 

“I congratulate you, Mr. Bathurst,” she said quietly, 
“ on yesterday. The Doctor has, of course, told me all 
about it. It can make no difference to us who knew 
you, but I am heartily glad for your sake. I can under- 
stand how great a difference it must make to you.” 

“ It has made all the difference in the world,” he re- 
plied. “ No one can tell the load it has lifted from my 
mind, I only wish it had taken place earlier.” 

“ I know what you mean, Mr. Bathurst, the Doctor 
has told me about that too. You may wish that you 
had remained in the boat, but it was well for me that 
you did not. You would have lost your life without 
benefiting me. I should be now in the well of Cawn- 
pore, or worse, at Bithoor.” 

“That may be,” he said gravely, “but it does not 
alter the fact. ” 

“ I have no reason to know why you consider you 
should have stopped in the boat, Mr. Bathurst,” she 
went on quietly, but with a slight flush on her cheek. 
“ I can perhaps guess by what you afterward did for 
me, by the risks you ran to save me, but I cannot go by 
guesses, I think I have a right to know.” 

“You are making me say what I did not mean to 
say,” he exclaimed passionately, “ at least not now ; but 
you do more than guess, you know — you know that I 
love you. ” 

“ And what do you know?” she asked softly. 

“I know that you ought not to love me,” he said. 
“ No woman should love a coward. ” 

“ I quite agree with you, but then I know that you 
are not a coward. ” 

“Not when I jumped over and left you alone? It 
was the act of a cur. ” 

“ It was an act for which you were not really re- 
sponsible. Had you been able to think, you would not 
have done so. I do not take the view the Doctor does, 
and I agree with you, that a man lovinga woman should 
first of all think of her and of her safety. So you 

25 


386 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

thought when you could think, but you were no more 
responsible for your action than a madman for a murder 
committed when in a state of frenzy. It was an im- 
pulse you could not control. Had you, after the im- 
pulse had passed, come down here, believing, as you 
might well have believed, that it was absolutely im- 
possible to rescue me from my fate, it would have been 
different. But the moment you came to yourself you 
deliberately took every risk and showed how brave you 
were when master of yourself. I am speaking plainly, 
perhaps more plainly than I ought to. But I should 
despise myself had I not the courage tq speak out now, 
when so much is at stake, and after all you have done 
for me. You love me?” 

“You know that I love you.” 

“And I love you,” the girl said; ‘-‘more than that, I 
honor and esteem you. I am proud of your love. I 
am jealous for your honor as for my own, and I hold 
that honor to be spotless. EJven now, even with my 
happiness at stake, I could not speak so plainly had I 
not spoken so cruelly and wrongly before. I did not 
know you then as I know you now, but having said 
what I thought then, I am bound to say what I think 
now, if only as a penance. Did I hesitate to do so, I 
should be less grateful than that poor Indian girl, who 
was ready, as she said, to give her life for the life you 
had saved.” 

“Had you spoken so bravely but two days since,” 
Bathurst said, taking her hand, “ I would have said, ‘I 
love you too well, Isobel, to link your fate to that of a dis- 
graced man, ’ but now I have it in my power to retrieve 
myself, to wipe out the unhappy memory of my first 
failure, and still more to restore the self-respect which 
I have lost during the last month. But to do so I must 
stay here; I must bear part in the terrible struggle 
there will be before this mutiny is put down, India re- 
conquered, and Cawnpore revenged.” 

“ I will not try to prevent you,” Isobel said. “ I feel 
that it would be wrong to do so. I could not honor you 
as I do, if for my sake you turned away now. Even 
though I knew I should never see you again I would 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 387 

that you had died so, than lived with even the shadow 
of dishonor on your name. I shall suffer, but there are 
hundreds of other women whose husbands, lovers, or sons 
are in the fray, and I shall not flinch more than they do 
from giving my dearest to the work of avenging our 
murdered friends and winning back India.” 

So quietly had they been talking that no thought of 
how momentous their conversation had been had en- 
tered the minds of the ladies sitting working but a few 
paces away. One, indeed, had remarked to another: 
“ I thought when Dr. Wade was telling us how Mr. 
Bathurst had rescued that unfortunate girl with the 
disfigured face at Cawnpore, that there was a romance 
in the case, but I don’t see any signs of it. They are 
good friends, of course, but there is nothing Ibver-like 
in their way of talking. ” 

So thought Dr. Wade when he came in and saw 
them sitting there and gave vent to his feeling in a 
grunt of dissatisfaction. 

“ It is like driving two pigs to market, ” he said ; “ they 
won’t go the way I want them to, out of pure contrari- 
ness.” 

“It is all settled. Doctor,” Bathurst said, rising. 
“ Shake hands, it is to you I owe my happiness chiefly.” 

“ Isobel, my dear, give me a kiss,” the Doctor ex- 
claimed. “ I am glad, my dear, I am glad with all my 
heart. And what have you settled besides that?” 

“We have settled that I am to go home as soon as I 
can go down country, and he is going up with you and 
the others to Cawnpore.” 

“ That is right,” the Doctor said heartily, “ I told you 
that was what he would decide upon ; it is right that he 
should do so. No man ought to turn his face to the 
coast till Lucknow is relieved and Delhi is captured. 
I thank God it has all come right at last! I began to 
be afraid that Bathurst’s wrong-headedness was going 
to mar both your lives.” 

The news had already come down that Havelock had 
found that it would be absolutely impossible with the 
small force at his command to fight his way into Lucknow 
through the multitude of foes that surrounded it, and 


388 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


that he must wait until reinforcements arrived. There 
was, therefore, no urgent hurry, and it was not until 
ten days later that a second troop of volunteer horse, 
composed of civilians unable to resume their duties 
and officers whose regiments had mutinied, started for 
Cawnpore. 

Half an hour before they mounted, Isobel Hannay 
and Bathurst were married by the chaplain in the fort. 
This was at Bathurst’s earnest wish. 

“I may not return, Isobel,” he had urged; “it is of 
no use to blink the fact that we have desperate fighting 
before us, and I should go into battle with my mind 
much more easy in the knowledge that come what 
might you were provided for. The Doctor tells me 
that he considers you his adopted daughter, and that he 
has already drawn up a will leaving his savings to )^ou; 
but I should like your future to come from me, dear, 
even if I am not to share it with you. As you know, I 
have a fine estate at home and I should like to think 
of you as its mistress.” 

And Isobel of course had given way, though not with- 
out protest. 

“You don’t know what I may be like yet,” she said, 
half-laughing, half in earnest. “ I may carry these red 
blotches to my grave. ” 

“They are honorable scars, dear, as honorable as any 
gained in battle. I hope, for your sake, that they will 
get better in time, but it makes no difference to me. I 
know what you were and how you sacrificed your beauty. 
I suppose if I came back short of an arm or leg you 
would not make that an excuse for throwing me over. ” 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for even 
thinking of such a thing, Ralph.” 

“Well, dear, I don’t know that I did think it, but I 
am only putting a parallel case to your own. No, you 
must give way, it is in all ways best. We will be mar- 
ried on the morning I start, so as just to give time for 
our wedding breakfast before I mount. ” 

“It shall be as you wish,” she said softly. “You 
know the estate without you would be nothing to me, 
but I should like to bear your name, and should you 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


389 


never come back to me, Ralph, to mourn for you all 
my life as my husband. But I believe you will return 
to me. I think I am getting superstitious and believe 
in all sorts of things since so many strange things have 
happened: those pictures on the smoke that came 
true, Rujub sending you messages at Deennugghur, 
and Rabda making me hear her voice and sending me 
messages in prison. I do not feel so miserable at the 
thought of your going into danger as I should do if I 
did not feel a sort of conviction that we shall meet 
again. People believe in presentiments of evil, why 
should they not believe in presentiments of good? • At 
any rate it is a comfort to me that I do feel so and I 
mean to go on believing it. ” 

“ Do so, Isobel. Of course there will be danger, but 
the danger will be nothing to that we have passed 
through together. The Sepoys will no doubt fight 
hard, but already they must have begun to doubt, their 
confidence in victory must be shaken, and they begin to 
fear retribution for their crimes. The fighting will, I 
think, be less severe as the struggle goes on, and at any 
rate the danger to us fighting as the assailants is as 
nothing to that run when we were little groups sur- 
rounded by a country in arms. 

“ The news that has come through from Lucknow is 
that for some time, at any rate, the garrison are confi- 
dent they can hold out, while at Delhi we know that 
our position is becoming stronger every day ; the rein- 
forcements are beginning to arrive from England, and 
though the work may be slow at first, our army will 
swell, while their strength will diminish until we 
sweep them before us. I need not stop until the end, 
only till the peril is over, till Lucknow is relieved, and 
Delhi captured. 

“As we agreed, I have already sent in my resignation 
in the service, and shall fight as a volunteer only. If 
we have to fight our way into Lucknow cavalry will be 
useless, and I shall apply to be attached to one of the 
infantry regiments; having served before there will be 
no difficulty about that. I think there are sure to be 
plenty of vacancies. Six months will assuredly see the 


390 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. ' 


force of the rebellion altogether broken. No doubt it 
will take much longer crushing it out altogether, for 
they will break up into scattered bodies, and it may be 
a long work before these are all hunted down, but when 
the strength of the rebellion is broken I can leave with 
honor.” 

There were but few^preparations to be made for the 
wedding. Great interest was felt in the fort in the 
event, for IsobeTs rescue from Bithoor and Cawnpore, 
when all others who had fallen into the power of the 
Nana had fallen, had been the one bright spot in the 
gloom ; and there would have been a general feeling 
of disappointment had not the romance had the usual 
termination. 

Isobel’s presents were numerous and of a most useful 
character, for they took the form of articles of clothing, 
and her trousseau was a varied and extensive one. 

The Doctor said to her the evening before the event, 
“You ought to have a certificate from the authorities, 
Isobel, saying how you came into possession of your 
wardrobe, otherwise when you get back to England you 
will very soon come to be looked upon as a most sus- 
picious character.” 

“ How do you mean. Doctor?” 

“Well, my dear, if the washerwoman to whom you 
send your assortment at the end of the voyage is an 
honest woman, she will probably give information to 
the police that you must be a receiver of stolen prop- 
ert)^, as your garments are all marked with different 
names.” 

“ It will look suspicious. Doctor, but I must run the 
risk of that till I can re-mark them again. I can do a 
good deal that way before I sail. It is likely we shall 
be another fortnight at least before we can start for 
Calcutta. I don’t mean to take the old names out, but 
shall mark my initials over them and the word, ‘from.’ 
Then they will always serve as mementos of the kind- 
ness of every one here. ” 

Early on the morning of the wedding a native pre- 
sented himself at the gate of the fort; and on being al- 
lowed to enter with a letter, of which he was the bearer, 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


391 


for Miss Hannay, handed her a parcel which proved to 
contain a very handsome and valuable set of jewelr3% 
with a slip of paper on which were the words, “ From 
Rabda.” 

The Doctor was in high spirits at the breakfast to 
which everybody sat down directly after the wedding. 
In the first place his greatest wish was gratified, and in 
the second* he was about to start to take part in the 
work of retribution. 

“ One would think you were just starting on a pleas- 
ure party. Doctor," Isobel said. 

“ It is worth all the pleasure parties in the world, my 
dear. I have always been a hunter, and this time it is 
human ‘tigers’ I am going in pursuit of; besides 
which,” he said in a quieter tone, “ I hope I am going 
to cure as well as kill. I shall only be a soldier when 
I am not wanted as a doctor. A man who really loves 
his profession, as I do, is always glad to exercise it, 
and I fear I shall have ample opportunities that way; 
besides, dear, there is nothing like being cheerful upon 
an occasion of this kind. The longer we laugh, the 
less time there is for tears.” 

And so the party did not break up until it was nearly 
time for the little troop to start. Then there was a 
brief passionate parting, and the volunteer horse rode 
away to Cawnpore. Almost the first person they met 
as they rode into the British lines was Wilson, who 
gave a shout of joy at seeing the Doctor and Bathurst. 

“My dear Bathurst!” he exclaimed, “then you got 
safe down. Did you rescue Miss Hannay?” 

“ I had that good fortune, Wilson.” 

“ I am glad, I am glad,” the young fellow said, shak- 
ing his hand violently, while the tears stood in his eyes. 
“ I know you were right in sending me away, but I have 
regretted it ever since. I know I should have been in the 
way, but it seemed such a mean thing for me to go off by 
myself. Well, Doctor, and so you got off too,” he went 
on, turning from Bathurst and wringing the Doctor’s 
hand ; “ I never even hoped that you escaped. I made 
sure that it was only we two. I have had an awful 
time of it since we heard the news, on the way up, of 


392 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

the massacre of the women. I had great faith in Bath- 
urst and knew that if anything could be done he would 
do it, but when I saw the place they had been shut up 
in, it did not seem really possible that he could have 
got any one out of it. And where did you leave Miss 
Hannay?” 

“ We have not left her at all, ” the Doctor said gravely, 
“there is no longer a Miss Hannay. There, man, don’t 
look so shocked. She changed her name on the morn- 
ing we came away. ’’ 

“What!” Wilson exclaimed. “Is she Mrs. Bath- 
urst? I am glad, Bathurst. Shake hands again; I felt 
sure that if you did rescue her that was what would 
come of it. I was almost certain by her way when I 
talked to her about you one day that she liked you. 
I was awfully spoony on her myself, you know, but 1 
knew it was no use, and I would rather by a lot that she 
married you than anyone else I know. But come along 
into my tent, you know your troop and ours are going 
to be joined. We have lost pretty near half our fellows 
either in the fights coming up or by sunstroke or fever 
since we came here. I got hold of some fizz in the 
bazaar yesterday, and I am sure you must be thirsty. 
This is a splendid business, I don’t know that I ever 
felt so glad of anything in my life,” and he dragged 
them away to his tent. 

Bathurst found, to his disappointment, that intense 
as was the desire to push forward to Lucknow, the gen- 
eral opinion was that the general would not venture to 
risk his little force in an operation that, with the means 
at his disposal, seemed well-nigh impossible. Cholera 
had made considerable ravages, and he had but fifteen 
hundred bayonets at his disposal. All that could be 
done pending the arrival of reinforcements was to pre- 
pare the way for an advance and show so bold a front 
that the enemy would be forced to draw a large force 
from Lucknow to oppose his advance. 

A bridge of boats was thrown across the Ganges and 
the force crossed the river and advanced to Onao, eight 
miles on the road to Lucknow. Here the enemy, 
strongly posted, barred the way, but they were at- 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


393 


tacked, and, after hard fighting, defeated, with a loss 
of three hundred men and fifteen guns. 

In this fight the volunteer horse, who had been 
formed into a single troop, did good service. One of 
their two officers was killed; and as the party last up 
from Allahabad were all full of Bathurst’s rescue of 
Miss Hannay from Cawnpore, and Wilson and the Doc- 
tor influenced the others, he was chosen to fill the 
vacancy. 

There were two other fierce fights out at Busserut- 
gunge and then Bathurst had the satisfaction of ad- 
vancing with the column against Bithoor. Here again 
the enemy fought sturdily, but were defeated with 
great slaughter, and the Nana’s palace was destroyed. 

When, after the arrival of Outram with reinforce- 
ments, the column set out for Lucknow, the volunteers 
did not accompany them, as they would have been use- 
less in street fighting, and were therefore detailed to 
form part of the little force left at Cawnpore to hold the 
city and check the rebels, parties of whom were swarm- 
ing round it. 

The officer in command of the troop died of cholera 
a few days after Havelock’s column started up, and 
Bathurst succeeded him. The work was very arduous, 
the men being almost constantly in their saddles, and 
having frequent encounters with the enemy. They 
were again much disappointed at being left behind 
when Sir Colin Campbell advanced to the relief of 
Havelock and the garrison, but did more than their 
share of fighting in the desperate struggle when the 
mutineers of the Gwalior contingent attacked the force 
at Cawnpore during the absence of the relieving column. 
Here they were almost annihilated in a desperate 
charge which saved thd^64th from being cut to pieces 
at the most critical moment of the fight. 

Wilson came out of the struggle with the loss of his 
left arm, and two or three serious wounds. He had 
been cut off and surrounded, and was falling from his 
horse when Bathurst cut his way to his rescue, and, lift- 
ing him into his saddle before him, succeeded after 
desperate fighting in carrying him off, himself receiving 


394 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


several wounds, none of which, however, were severe. 
The action had been noticed, and Bathurst’s name was 
sent in for the Victoria Cross. As the troop had 
dwindled to a dozen sabres, he applied to Sir Colin 
Campbell, whose column had arrived in time to save 
the force at Cawnpore and to defeat the enemy, to be 
attached to a regiment as a volunteer. The general, 
however, at once offered him a post as an extra aide- 
de-camp to himself, as his perfect knowledge of the 
language would render him of great use ; and he gladly 
accepted the offer. 

With the rescued party from Lucknow was the 
Doctor. 

• “By the way, Bathurst,” he said, on the evening of 
his return, “ I met an old acquaintance in Lucknow, 
you would never guess who it was — Forster.” 

“You don’t say so, Doctor.” 

“Yes, it seems he was hotly pursued, but managed 
to shake the Sowars off. At that time the garrison was 
not so closely besieged as it afterward was. He knew 
the country well, and made his way across it until 
within sight of Lucknow. At night he rode right 
through the rebels, swam the river and gained the 
Residency. He distinguished himself greatly through 
the siege, but had been desperately wounded the day 
before we marched in. He was in a ward that was 
handed over to me directly I got there, and I at once 
saw that his case was a hopeless one. The poor fellow 
was heartily glad to see me. Of course he knew noth- 
ing of what had taken place at Deennugghur after he 
had left and was very much cut up when he heard the 
fate of almost all the garrison. He listened quietly 
when I told him how you had rescued Isobel and of 
your marriage. He was silent, and then said: ‘I am 
glad to hear it. Doctor, I am glad to her that she es- 
caped. Bathurst has fairly won her. I never dreamed 
that she cared for him. Well, it seems he wasn t a 
coward after all. And you say he has resigned and 
come upas a volunteer instead of going home with her? 
That is plucky, anyhow. Well, I am glad. I should 
not have been if I hadn’t been like this, Doctor, but 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


395 


now I am out of the running for good it makes no odds 
to me either way. If ever you see him again, you tell 
him I said I was glad. I expect he will make her a 
deucedly better husband than I should have done. I 
never liked Bathurst, but I expect it was because he was 
a better fellow than most of us — that was at school, you 
know — and of course T did not take to him at Deennug- 
ghur. No one could have taken to a man there who 
could not stand fire. But you say he has got over that, 
so that is all right. Anyhow, I have no doubt he will 
make her happy. Tell her I am glad. Doctor. I 
thought at one time — but that is no odds now. I am 
glad you are out of it, too. ’ 

“ And then he rambled on about shooting tigers, and 
did not say anything more sensible until late that night. 
I was sitting by him ; he had been unconscious for some 
time, and he opened his eyes suddenly and said, ‘Tell 
them both, I am glad,’ and those were the last words 
he spoke.” 

“ He was a brave soldier, a fine fellow in many ways,” 
Bathurst said ; “ if he had been brought up differently 
he would have been a grand fellow, with all his gifts, 
but I fancy he never got any home training. Well, I 
am glad he didn’t die as we supposed, without a friend 
beside him, on his way to Lucknow, and that he fell 
after doing his duty to the women and children there.” 

Wilson refused to go home after the loss of his arm, 
and as soon as he recovered was appointed to one of 
the vSikh regiments, and took part in the final conquest 
of Lucknow two months after the fight at Cawnpore. 
A fortnight after the conclusion of that terrible struggle. 
Sir Colin Campbell announced to Bathurst that among 
the dispatches that he had received from home that 
morning was a Gazette, in which his name appeared 
among those to whom the Victoria Cross had been 
granted. 

“I congratulate you heartily, Mr. Bathurst,” the old 
officer said ; “ I have had the pleasure of speaking in 
the highest terms of the bravery you displayed in 
carrying my message through heavy fire a score of 
times during the late operations. ” 


396 IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 

Great as the honor of the Victoria Cross always is, to 
Bathurst it was much more than to other men. It was 
his rehabilitation. He need never fear now that his 
courage could be questioned, and the report that he had 
before left the army because he lacked courage would 
be forever silenced now that he could write V.C. after 
his name. The pleasure of Doctor Wade and Wilson 
war scarcely less than his own. The latter’s regiment 
. had suffered very heavily in the struggle at Lucknow, 
and he came out of it a captain, having escaped without 
a wound. 

A week later Bathurst resigned his appointment. 
There was still much to be done, and months of march- 
ing and fighting before the rebellion was quite stamped 
out ; but there had now arrived a force ample to over- 
come all opposition, and there was no longer a necessity 
for the service of civilians. As he had already left the 
service of the company he was his own master, and 
therefore started at once for Calcutta. 

“ I shall not be long before I follow you,” the Doctor 
said, as they spent their last evening together. “ I 
shall wait and see this out, and then retire. I should 
have liked to have gone home with you, but it is out of 
the question. Our hands are full, and likely to be so 
for some time, so I must stop.” 

Bathurst stopped for a day at Patna to see Rujub and 
his daughter. He was received as an expected guest, 
and after spending a few hours with them he continued 
his journey. At Calcutta he found a letter awaiting 
him from Isobel saying that she had arrived safely in 
England, and should stay with her mother until his ar- 
rival, and there he found her. 

‘‘I expected you to-day,” she said, after the first 
rapturous greeting was over. “ Six weeks ago I woke 
in the middle of the night and heard Rabda’s voice 
distinctly say, ‘He has been with us to-day; he is safe 
and well ; he is on his way to you. ’ As I knew how 
long you would take going down from Patna, I went 
the next day to the office and found which steamer you 
would catch and when she would arrive. My mother 
and sister both regarded me as a little out of my mind 


IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY. 


397 


when I said you would be back this week. They have 
not the slightest belief in what I told them about Rujub, 
and insist that it is all a sort of hallucination brought 
on by my sulferings. Perhaps they will believe now. ” 

“ Your face is wonderfully better,” he said presently. 
“ The marks seem dying out, and you look almost like 
your old self.” 

“Yes,” she said, “I have been to one of the great 
doctors, and he says that he thinks the scars will quite 
disappear in time. ” 

Isobel Bathurst has never again received any distinct 
message from Rabda, but from time to time she has 
the consciousness, when sitting quietly alone, that the 
girl is with her in thought. Every year letters and 
presents are exchanged, and to the end of their lives 
she and her husband will feel that their happiness is 
chiefly due to her and her father — Rujub the Juggler. 


THE END. 


The ** Broadway Series " of Copyright Novels. 

NEW NOVEL, 1j7 JAMES PAYN. 


A 



BY 

JAMES PAYN, 


AUTHOR OF 

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— Boston Times. 


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